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BJ  1671  .M65  1843 
Miller,  Samuel,  1769-1850. 
Letters  from  a  father  to  hi! 
sons  in  college 


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littp://www.arcli  ive.org/details/lettersfromfatlie1843mill 


LETTERS. 


LETTERS 


FROM    A    FATHER 


HIS    SONS    IN    COLLEGE. 


BY  SAMUEL  MILLER,  D.D. 

PROFESSOR  IN  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY,  PRINCETON, 
NEW  JERSEV. 


Qui  studet  optaiam  cursu  coniingere  melam, 
MuUa  tulil  feciuiue  puer,  sudavil  el  alsit. 

HoR.  de  Art.  Poet. 

Pudore  el  liberalilate  liberos 
Reiinere,  salius  esse  credo,  quam  metu. 

Terence. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

GRIGG     AND     ELLIOT. 

1843. 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1843,  by 

SAMUEL  MILLER,  D.D. 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Eastern  District  of 
Pennsylvania. 


T.  K.  &  P    G.  COLLINS,  PRINTERS. 


DEDICATION. 

To  every  Parent  who  has  a  son  in  college;  and 
to  every  Son  who  is  placed  in  that  interesting  and 
responsible  situation,  this  volume  is  affectionately 
inscribed.  The  former  may,  perhaps,  learn  from 
it  to  estimate  more  justly  his  power,  though  afar 
off,  to  contribute  toward  averting  the  dangers,  and 
promoting  the  improvement  of  one  unspeakably 
dear  to  him:  and  the  latter,  if  he  is  not  blind  to  his 
own  honour  and  happiness,  and  reckless  to  all  the 
claims  of  his  friends,  his  Alma  Mater,  his  Country 
and  his  God,  will  certainly  find  in  it  counsels  not 
unworthy  of  his  most  serious  regard. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

The  writer  of  this  volume  has  had  five  sons 
trained  and  graduated  in  the  College  of  New  Jer- 
sey. The  following  Letters,  not,  indeed,  precisely 
in  their  present  form,  but  in  substance,  were  actu- 
ally addressed  to  them.  There  is,  probably,  not 
one  idea  contained  in  this  manual  which  was  not, 
during  their  course  in  that  Institution,  distinctly 
communicated  to  them,  either  orally  or  in  writing. 
The  influence  of  these  counsels  on  theh^  minds,  it 
is  believed,  was  not  wholly  useless.  May  they 
prove  still  more  useful  when  presented  in  this  re- 
vised and  more  public  form! 

Princeton,  March  30,  1843, 


CONTENTS. 


LETTER  I. 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTORY,  ...  .13 


LETTER  IL 

OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAWS,  .  .  .25 

LETTER  in. 

MANNERS, 44 

LETTER  IV. 

MORALS,  .  .  .  .  .  .68 

LETTER  V. 
RELIGION, 81 

LETTER  VI, 

REBELLIONS, 113 

LETTER  VIL 

HEALTH, 128 

LETTER  VIIL 
TEMPERANCE, 145 


10  CONTENTS. 

LETTER  IX. 
FORMATION  AND  VALUE  OF  CHARACTER,       .     163 


LETTER  X. 

PACE 

PATRIOTISM, 176 


LETTER  Xr. 

PARTICULAR  STUDIES 186 

LETTER  XIL 

GENERAL  READING, 206 

LETTER  Xin. 
ATTENTION,  DILIGENCE,      .  .  .  .236 

LETTER  XIV. 

ASSOCIATIONS,  FRIENDSHIPS,         .  .  .251 

LETTER  XV. 

LITERARY  SOCIETIES  IN  COLLEGE,  .  .     266 

LETTER  XVI. 

DRESS 275 

LETTER  XVn. 

CARE  OF  THE  STUDENT'S  ROOM,  .  .     282 

LETTER  XVIIL 

EXPENSES, 288 

LETTER  XIX. 

ALMA  MATER, 300 


CONTENTS. 

11 

LETTER  XX. 

PARENTS, 

LETTER  XXL 

.     311 

PAOB 

VACATIONS, 

LETTER  XXir. 

.     321 

CONCLUDING 

REMARKS, 

.     330 

L  E  T  T  E  U  S,  &c. 

LETTER    I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

Mr  Dear  Sons, 

You  have  escaped  from  the  place  and  the  name 
o{  school-boys,  and  have  become  members  oi  di  col- 
lege; a  college  not  only  venerable  for  its  age  and 
standing,  but  also  famous  as  the  Mma  Mater  of  a 
large  number  of  the  most  eminent  men  that  have 
ever  adorned  our  country.  This  step  will,  no  doubt, 
form  an  important  sera  in  your  lives;  perhaps  more 
important  than  either  you  or  I  now  anticipate.  In 
placing  you  in  this  new  and  responsible  situation, 
my  feelings  have  been  pecuHar  and  solemn.  I  have 
looked  back  upon  my  own  college  course,  in  ano- 
ther institution,  with  mingled  emotions.  The  retro- 
spect of  its  advantages,  its  pleasing  associations, 
both  with  teachers,  and  fellow  students,  and  the 
protection  and  guidance  with  which  I  was  favoured 
by  a  merciful  Providence,  at  that  season  of  youthful 
inexperience  and  peril,  never  fail  to  inspire  grati- 
tude. But  the  recollection  of  my  mistakes,  my 
2 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

failures,  my  incorrect  estimate  of  the  value  of  some 
of  my  prescribed  studies  and  pursuits;  my  loss  of 
precious  opportunities,  and  my  false  steps,  at  that 
critical  period  of  my  life,  is  always  connected  with 
self-reproach.  A  thousand  times  have  1  said,  "  0, 
if  I  had  known  as  much  as  I  now  know  of  the 
value  of  certain  studies,  and  the  wisdom  of  certain 
courses  of  conduct  earnestly  recommended  to  me 
by  parents  and  friends— how  unspeakably  more 
might  I  have  profited  by  tlie  privileges  which  I 
was  then  permitted  to  enjoy!" 

Can  you  wonder,  then,  my  dear  sons,  that  I  am 
deeply  anxious  for  your  welfare  and  improvement 
in  the  new  situation  in  which  I  have  thought  it  my 
duty  to  place  you?  And  can  you  doubt  that  I  am 
ardently  desirous  of  imparting  to  you  a  portion  of 
my  early  experience?  Some  of  that  experience 
was  dearly  bought.  If  you  are  willing  and  docile 
you  may  receive  the  advantages  of  it  upon  easier 
terms.  The  importance  of  parental  instruction  and 
discipline  is  founded  on  the  fact,  that  every  succes- 
sive individual  of  our  species  comes  into  the  world 
ignorant,  feeble  and  helpless;  and  that  the  same 
process  for  instilling  knowledge  into  the  mind,  and 
for  restraining  the  passions,  and  correcting  the  evil 
propensities  of  our  nature,  must  be  undergone,  de 
novo,  in  every  instance.  If  you  could  start  with 
the  knowledge  and  the  experience  with  which  the 
aged  leave  off,  you  would  stand  less  in  need  of 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

instruction  and  exhortation  from  those  who  have 
gone  before  yon;  but  as  this  is  impossible,  you  must 
be  content  to  acquire  knowledge,  and  to  gain  the 
mastery  over  your  corrupt  propensities  in  the  way 
appointed  by  a  gracious  God  for  our  fallen  race. 

Listen,  then,  to  a  father  who  loves  you  most  sin- 
cerely; who  will  never  willingly  give  you  a  delu- 
sive counsel;  who  prays  that  you  may  be  inspired 
with  heavenly  wisdom;  and  who  can  have  no 
greater  pleasure  than  to  see  you  pursuing  a  course 
adapted  to  render  you  in  the  highest  degree  useful, 
beloved  and  happy  in  this  world,  and  forever 
blessed  in  that  more  important  world  which  is  to 
come. 

But  beside  my  natural  aflection  for  you,  and  my 
tender  interest  in  your  welfare,  there  are  other  con- 
siderations which  present  a  claim  to  your  attention 
to  the  counsels  contained  in  these  letters.  I  am  the 
son,  as  you  know,  of  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  who 
passed  through  a  long  life  devoted  to  tiie  acquire- 
ment and  the  connnunicaiion  of  the  best  of  all 
knowledge,  and  who  left  me  many  precious  coun- 
sels, the  result  of  his  experience,  from  which  1 
should  have  been  inexcusable  had  I  not  derived 
some  profit.  I  have  myself  now  lived  more  than 
three  score  and  ten  years,  and,  of  course,  have  had 
much  opportunity  of  observing  the  conduct  and 
the  end  of  many  young  men  who  enjoyed  the 
advantages  now  conferred  on  you.     I  have  my- 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

self  passed  through  a  college  course,  and,  con- 
sequently, know  something  of  the  character,  the 
habits,  and  the  temptations  of  college  life.  I  have 
been  a  trustee  of  the  college  with  which  you  are 
connected  between  thirty  and  forty  years,  and,  in 
discharging  the  duties  of  this  office,  have  become 
.  intimately  acquainted  with  the  docility,  the  dili- 
gence, and  the  success  of  one  class  of  students;  and 
with  the  aberrations,  the  discipline,  the  degrading 
habits,  and  the  ultimate  destruction  of  another  class. 
It  would  be  strange,  indeed,  if  one  who  had  enjoyed 
advantages,  and  passed  through  scenes  of  this  kind, 
should  not  be  in  some  degree  qualified  to  administer 
warning  and  caution  to  those  who  are  beginning  a 
course  so  momentous  to  each  individual  as  that  on 
which  you  have  entered.  And  it  would  be  sup- 
posing peculiar  perverseness  and  infatuation  on 
your  part,  to  doubt  whether  you  ought  to  regard 
with  some  respect  the  counsels  of  such  a  friend. 

It  has  occurred  to  me,  too,  that  by  embodying 
and  presenting  a  few  paternal  counsels,  I  may,  by 
the  Divine  blessing,  not  only  profit  you;  but  by  of- 
fering them  to  the  public,  from  the  press,  become 
instrumental  in  conferring  benefits  on  the  children 
of  some  of  my  beloved  friends  similarly  situated 
with  yourselves:  and  possibly  the  children  of  others, 
whose  faces  I  never  saw,  and  never  shall  see  in  the 
flesh,  may  not  be  wholly  unprofited  by  the  counsels 
of  an  old  man,  who  was  once  in  their  situation,  and 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

wliose  duty  and  happiness  it  is  to  promote  the  wel- 
fare of  ingenuous  youth,  wherever  and  whenever 
they  may  be  placed  within  his  reach. 

I  acknowledge,  also,  I  am  not  without  some  hope 
that  another  benefit  may  result  from  the  prepara- 
tion of  this  manual.  I  am  persuaded  that  some,  at 
least,  of  the  young  men  whose  disorders  in  college 
degrade  themselves,  distress  their  parents,  and  give 
trouble  to  their  teachers,  are  betrayed  into  their  ill 
conduct  more  by  thoughtlessness,  by  inexperience, 
and  by  ignorance  of  the  world,  than  by  any  fixed 
purpose  of  insubordination  or  rebelHon.  They  be- 
come delinquents  more  from  inadvertence  and  juve- 
nile folly,  than  from  settled  design;  and,  of  course, 
what  they  chiefly  need  is  to  have  their  attention 
called  to  a  variety  of  subjects,  connected  with  col- 
lege discipline,  and  college  duty,  in  regard  to  which 
their  views  and  habits  are  at  present  erroneous, 
chiefly  because  they  have  never  seriously  consider- 
ed them;  and  have  never  been  taught  better.  The 
benefit  of  such  young  men  is  not  only  earnestly  to 
be  desired,  but  their  case  is  far  from  being  hopeless. 
There  is  every  prospect  that  discreet  and  well  di- 
rected efforts  may  make  an  impression  conducive 
to  their  permanent  good.  If,  therefore,  while  I  put 
you  on  your  guard  against  the  company  and  the 
influence  of  such  young  men,  as  long  as  their  pre- 
sent habits  continue;  they  should  be  disposed  to  take 
the  friendly- hints  here  dropped,  and  to  "consider 
2* 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

their  ways,"  v/e  may  all  have  reason  to  rejoice  to- 
gether that  this  labour  of  sincere  good  will  has  not 
been  in  vain. 

It  is  common  to  remind  the  young  that  they  oc- 
cupy a  station  in  their  course  peculiarly  critical  and 
important;  that  youth  is  the  seed-time  of  life;  that 
this  is  the  period  in  which  knowledge  is  to  be  ac- 
quired, habits  to  be  formed,  and  provision  to  be 
made  for  all  coming  time.  To  young  men  in  col- 
lege all  these  suggestions  are  peculiarly  appropriate. 
To  no  point  of  time,  perhaps,  in  your  whole  course, 
can  the  epithets  crilical  and  important  be  so  justly 
and  strongly  applied  as  to  that  which  embraces  your 
college  life.  Now  you  are  first  brought  into  any 
thing  like  close  contact  with  the  world.  Now  your 
character  is  to  be  tried  in  a  manner  that  it  has 
never  yet  been.  Now  you  are  to  be  left  more  to 
yourselves  than  heretofore.  Now  it  is  to  be  seen 
whether  your  love  of  knowledge  is  so  great  as  that 
you  will  study  with  diligence  when  not  constantly 
under  the  immediate  eyes  of  your  teachers.  Hither- 
to yon  have  had  few  associations  but  with  the  sober 
and  orderly.  Now  you  are  to  stand  the  test  of 
being  associated  with  some  of  a  very  different  cha- 
racter. In  your  college  course  habits  in  some  re- 
spects new  are  to  be  formed.  Various  kinds  of 
knowledge,  to  which  you  have  been  heretofore 
strangers,  are  to  be  acquired.  Your  characters  are 
to  receive  a  stamp  which  will,  in  all  probability,  be 


INTRODUCTION.  19 

indelible.  It  is  during  the  few  years  which,  if  your 
lives  are  spared,  you  are  expected  to  spend  in  this 
institution,  that  it  is  to  be  seen  whether  you  can 
withstand  the  blasts  of  corrupt  influence  with  which 
every  college,  known  to  me,  is  more  or  less  infected; 
whether  you  will  have  wisdom  given  you  to  appre- 
ciate the  danger,  and  to  turn  away  from  the  "  in- 
struction that  causeth  to  err."  In  short,  the  college 
course  of  a  young  man  who  is  pursuing  an  educa- 
tion, may  be  said  to  be,  in  a  sense  which  belongs 
to  no  other  period  of  equal  extent — the  "turning 
point"  of  his  life.  Here,  we  may  almost  say,  every 
thing  for  his  weal  or  woe  will  be  determined.  No 
one  can  predict  what  any  young  man  is  to  be  till 
he  is  tried.  This  may  be  called — more  than  any 
other  which  either  precedes  or  follows  it — the  try- 
ing period,  on  which  more  depends  than  any  hu- 
man arithmetic  can  calculate. 

Can  you  wonder,  then,  my  dear  sons,  that  your 
father,  aware  of  this,  and  recollecting  it  with  the 
deepest  interest,  is  anxious  for  your  welfare.?  Can 
you  wonder  that  he  carries  your  situation  every  day 
before  the  throne  of  grace,  and  implores  for  you  the 
protection  and  guidance  of  your  father's  God?  Re- 
member that,  in  every  period  of  life,  you  need  light 
and  strength  from  on  high,  to  enable  you  to  resist 
temptation,  and  to  improve  the  advantages  under 
which  you  are  placed.  But  you  need  this  grace 
peculiarly  now.     Pray  for  it  without  ceasing.     Be 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

upon  your  guard  against  all  the  dangers  of  which 
I  am  about  to  warn  you.  Remember  that  you  are 
now  in  a  situation  in  which  one  false  step  may  ruin 
you;  in  which  yielding  to  the  influence  of  one  pro- 
fligate companion  may  plnnge  you  into  embarrass- 
ments and  difliculties  from  which  you  may  never 
be  able  to  extricate  yourselves.  "  Watch  and  pray 
that  you  enter  not  into  temptation."  "  Wherewith 
shall  a  young  man  cleanse  his  way?  By  taking 
heed  thereto  according  to  God's  word."  No  one  is 
so  likely  to  escape  the  snares  with  which  he  is  sur- 
rounded, as  he  who  is  impressed  with  a  deep  sense 
of  his  own  weakness,  and  is  continually  seeking 
help  from  above. 

Remember  the  purpose  for  which  you  have  been 
placed  in  the  institntion  to  which  you  belong;  to 
learn,  not  to  teach;  to  obey,  not  to  govern.  Re- 
member, too,  that,  without  your  own  habitual  and 
faithful  eff'orts,  your  position  in  a  college  will  be 
altogether  unavailing.  Many  parents,  and,  I  fear, 
some  youth,  are  apt  to  imagine  that  there  is  some- 
thing in  such  an  institution,  which,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  will  fill  the  minds  of  pupils  with  knowledge, 
and  lead  to  rich  improvement.  They  seem  to  think 
that  they  are  like  open  vessels  sent  to  be  filled,  and 
that  instruction  may  be  poured  into  them  without 
any  agency,  or  even  concurrence  of  their  own.  I 
trust  this  mistake  never  found  a  place  in  your  minds; 
and  that  if  it  ever  has  in  any  measure,  the  little 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

experience  you  have  gained  has  completely  ba- 
nished it. 

Your  great  object  is  to  ascend  the  hill  of  litera- 
ture and  science.  Now  in  gaining  this  ascent,  you 
cannot  be  carried  or  borne  up  on  the  shoulders  of 
others.  You  must  climb  it  yourselves.  You  must 
have  guides  in  your  arduous  enterprise;  and  these 
guides  may  give  you  many  directions,  and  furnish 
you  with  many  articles  of  apparatus  which  will 
facilitate  your  ascent.  But,  after  all,  the  exertion  by 
which  you  climb  must  be  your  own  act.  The  mind 
can  be  strengthened  only  by  appropriate  aliment, 
and  habitual  exercise.  Gaining  ideas  and  princi- 
ples; depositing  them  in  the  mind;  digesting  them, 
and  making  them  our  own;  and  thus  strengthening, 
enlarging,  and  furnishing  the  intellectual  powers, — 
all  require  incessant  application  and  labour  on  our 
part.  It  was  mental  exercise  and  toil  which,  under 
God,  enabled  Bacon  and  Newton  and  Milton  so 
much  to  rise  above  the  mass  of  their  fellow  men. 
If  they  had  made  no  personal  efforts;  but  had  de- 
pended on  being  borne  up,  and  borne  along  by  the 
strength  of  others,  or  by  the  native  force  of  their 
own  powers— they  would  never  have  reached  the 
elevation  which  they  gained.  You  are  placed  in 
circumstances  highly  favourable  to  your  gaining 
knowledge,  and  in  every  way  improving  your 
minds;  but  unless  you  will  consent  to  exert  your- 
selves, and  to  labour  diligently  in  this  pursuit,  you 


22        '  INTRODUCTION. 

will  gain  but  little.  In  silver  and  gold  a  man  may- 
be made  rich — eminently  rich,  by  the  labour  or  the 
munificence  of  others;  but  in  intellectual  furniture 
and  strength,  he  can  no  more  be  enriched  by  the 
toil  of  others,  than  his  daily  food  can  be  digested 
and  made  to  nourish  him  by  the  mastication  and 
the  stomachs  of  those  around  him. 

In  the  gregarious  mode  of  life  in  which  you  are 
now  placed,  you  will,  no  doubt,  find  both  advan- 
tage  and  hindrance.  In  the  colleges  situated  in  our 
large  cities,  you  know,  the  students  do  not  usually 
lodge  in  public  edifices,  or  board  together  in  public 
refectories.  They  only  come  together  daily  at  their 
recitations,  and,  when  these  are  closed,  return  to 
their  respective  places  of  lodging.  This  was  the 
case  in  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  in  which  I 
was  educated.  When  large  numbers  of  students 
are  placed  in  this  situation  with  respect  to  each 
other,  their  harmonious  action,  and  especially  their 
efficient  co-operation,  are  neither  so  constant  nor  so 
easy,  as  when  they  all  board  and  lodge  together  in 
adjoining  public  edifices.  In  this  latter  plan  there 
are  some  very  material  advantages.  But  there  are 
some  countervailing  considerations.  When  students 
live  apart,  there  may  be  much  profligacy  and  mis- 
chief going  on;  but  it  is  less  concentrated  and  less 
seen.  When  they  all  live  together,  their  move- 
ments are  more  prominent  and  noticeable;  combi- 
nation is  more  easy;  they  are  liable  to  more  excite- 


INTRODUCTION.  23 

ment;  and  when  excitement  does  spring  up,  it  is  apt 
to  be  more  heated  and  violent.  It  is  said,  that,  in 
the  University  of  jlberdeen,  in  Scotland,  where 
there  are  two  colleges,  Marischal  and  Khig^s,  the 
stndents  belonging  to  the  one  all  lodge  and  board 
together;  while  the  students  of  the  other  are  dis- 
tributed in  different  boarding  houses  through  the 
city.  In  the  former,  it  is  alleged,  there  is  a  more  fre- 
quent occurrence  of  obtrusive  noise  and  disorder; 
in  the  latter  more  unbridled  vice  and  profligacy 
which  never  meet  the  public  eye. 

While  I  prefer,  on  the  whole,  having  students 
immured  together;  yet  I  wish  you  to  be  aware  that 
there  are  some  perils  connected  with  this  system. 
You  will  find  more  vigilance  and  caution  called  for 
in  regard  to  your  associations;  and  more  need  of 
prudence  to  avoid  being  implicated  in  those  excite- 
ments and  combinations  which  are  so  apt  to  spring 
up  where  large  numbers  of  human  beings  herd  to- 
gether. Recollect  this.  Be  ever  on  the  watch  to 
guard  against  the  evils,  and  to  avail  yourselves  of 
the  advantages,  which  attend  your  position: — and 
may  He  who  has  all  hearts  and  all  events  in  his 
hands,  grant  you  his  blessing,  and  his  unceasing 
guidance! 

If  I  could  admit  the  thought,  my  dear  sons,  that 
you  resembled  those  students  who  are  to  be  found 
in  every  college  that  I  have  ever  seen,  and  some  of 
whom,  it  is  to  be  feared,  belong  to  your  own  classes, 


24  INTRODUCTION. 

I  should  not  have  the  heart  to  write  another  sen- 
tence. I  mean  young  men  who  have  no  real  love 
of  knowledge;  no  ambition  to  be  distinguished  for 
either  wisdom  or  virtue;  who  have  no  regard  for 
the  peace  and  order  of  society;  no  respect  or  grati- 
tude for  their  instructors;  and  who  cannot  be  excited 
to  either  diligence  or  decency  by  even  a  regard  to 
the  feelings  of  their  parents:  who  study  as  little- as 
college  discipline  will  allow,  and  who  have  no  idea 
of  enjoying  life,  or  of  manifesting  manliness,  but  in 
idleness,  dissipation,  and  those  miserable  disorders 
which  indicate  unprincipled  vulgarity  more  than 
any  thing  else.  For  such  youth  it  is  in  vain  to  write 
or  to  reason.  Their  course  cannot  fail,  without  a 
miracle,  to  be  disgraceful  to  themselves,  and  ago- 
nizing to  those  who  love  them.  If  I  thought  that 
you  in  any  degree  partook  of  this  spirit,  I  should 
here  lay  down  my  pen  in  despair.  But,  indulging 
the  hope  that  you  love  knowledge;  that  you  cherish 
a  spirit  of  generous  ambition  to  be  useful  in  your 
day,  and  to  gratify  your  parents;  I  will  go  on  and 
pour  out  the  fulness  of  a  heart  glowing  with  regard 
to  your  welfare.  May  God  enable  me  to  write, 
and  you  to  read,  in  such  a  manner  as  may  result  in 
our  mutual  joy! 


25 


LETTER    II. 

OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAWS. 

"  Sanctio  jusla,  jubcns  honcsta,  el  prohibens  contraria." 

Br  ACTON  de  Legibus  Angliee. 

"  Sine  lege,  est  sine  ratione,  modo,  ordine." 

My  Dear  Sons, 

In  every  college  there  is  a  system  of  laws,  which 
all  who  enter  it  are,of  course,  bound  to  obey.  And 
they  are  under  this  obligation  anterior  to  any  for- 
mal engagement  to  that  purpose.  Every  ingenuous 
and  honourable  mind  will  perceive  that  he  who 
offers  himself  as  an  inmate  of  any  family  or  society, 
the  rules  of  which  are  established  and  publicly 
known,  must  be  understood  as  agreeing  to  those 
rules,  and  as  coming  under  a  virtual  stipulation  to 
obey  them.  He  who  comes  in  without  intending 
to  do  this,  and  without  actually  doing  it,  will  be 
considered  by  every  honest  man,  not  merely  as  a 
pest  and  a  nuisance,  but  as  forfeiting  all  title  to  the 
character  of  probity  and  honour.  He  who  pleads, 
then,  that  he  is  under  no  obligation  to  conform  to 
the  known  laws  of  a  college  of  which  he  is  a  mem- 
3 


26  OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAWS. 

ber,  because  he  has  not  formally  promised  to  do  so, 
might  just  as  well  say,  that  he  is  at  liberty,  consist- 
ently with  moral  honesty,  to  violate  the  laws  of  the 
state,  because  he  has  never  come  under  a  public 
and  formal  engagemr  nt  to  obey  them;  which  not 
one  citizen  in  a  thousand  has  ever  done.  How 
■would  such  a  plea  be  regarded  by  a  judge  or  jury 
in  a  case  of  theft,  fraud  or  perjury?  We  need  not 
wait  for  an  answer.  He  who  should  make  such  a 
plea,  would,  undoubtedly,  be  considered  as  a  felon 
in  spirit,  if  not  proved  to  be  one  in  act,  and  be 
driven  from  all  decent  society.  I  should  certainly 
not  be  willing  to  entrust  my  purse  with  uncounted 
money  in  the  hands  of  a  student  who  should  seri- 
ously advance  such  an  apology  for  violating  a  col- 
lege law. 

Some  years  since,  in  the  college  to  which  it  is 
your  privilege  to  belong,  every  student,  on  his  ad- 
mission, was  required  formally  to  declare,  that  he 
had  read  and  understood  the  laws  of  the  institution; 
and  that  he  "  solemnly  pledged  his  truth  and  honour 
to  obey  them."  And  yet,  even  then,  there  were  stu- 
dents who  laid  high  claims  to  the  character  of  both 
trtith  and  honoiw,  who  deliberately  violated  some 
of  the  most  important  of  those  laws,  and  even 
plumed  themselves  on  the  dexterity  and  success 
with  which  the  violation  was  accomplished.  And 
what  do  you  tliink  their  plea  then  was?  why,  that 
their  engagement  could  not  be  called  a  voluntary 


OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAWS.  27 

one;  that  they  had  been  placed  in  the  college  by 
the  authority  of  their  parents;  that  the  promise  to 
obey  the  laws  was  an  indispensable  formality,  sub- 
mission to  which  they  could  not  avoid,  without 
refusing  to  enter  the  institution,  and  this  considera- 
tion, according  to  their  extraordinary  logic,  liberated 
them  from  every  bond  of  obedience!  With  just  as 
much  propriety  might  a  witness,  summoned  to  give 
testimony  in  a  court  of  justice,  allege  that,  inasmuch 
as  the  solemnity  of  taking  an  oath,  prior  to  giving 
his  testimony,  was  a  formality  forced  upon  him  by 
the  law  of  the  land,  without  which  he  could  not  be 
permitted  to  appear  as  a  witness,  he  was  not  bound 
to  speak  the  truth.  Every  honest  man  would  in- 
stinctively despise  a  youth  who  was  capable  of 
advancing  such  a  plea.  Such  an  one  might  hold 
his  head  high,  and  make  the  most  lofty  pretensions 
to  honourable  principles  and  conduct;  but,  in  the 
estimation  of  all  correct  minds,  he  would  be  re- 
garded as,  virtually  if  not  formally,  a  perjured  vil- 
lain. The  very  same  plea  might  a  judge,  or  a 
magistrate  of  any  grade,  make  with  regard  to  his 
oath  of  office.  It  is  a  sine  qua  non  to  his  introduc- 
tion to  office.  In  this  sense,  the  requisition  may  be 
called  a  comjnihory  one.  He  cannot  perform  a 
single  official  duty,  or  enjoy  a  single  official  privi- 
lege  or  emolument,  without  it.  But  what  would 
you  think  of  such  an  officer,  if,  after  having  taken 
the  prescribed  oath,  he  were  to  allege,  that  it  was 


28  OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAWS. 

not  binding,  because  he  was  obliged  either  to  take 
it,  or  lose  his  office;  and  to  imagine  that  he  might 
break  it  without  crime  or  dishonour?  You  would, 
doubtless,  consider  him  as  a  scoundrel,  quite  as 
worthy  of  a  place  in  the  penitentiary  as  many  of 
those  whom  his  sentences  had  sent  thither. 

But  I  will  not  dwell  longer  on  these  degrading 
subterfuges,  to  which  none  but  minds  utterly  des-ti- 
tute  of  all  sound  and  honourable  principle  would 
ever  think  of  resorting. 

I  trust,  my  dear  sons,  you  will  equally  despise 
and  abhor  every  plea,  nay  every  thought,  of  this 
kind;  and  that  you  will  avoid  the  society  of  every 
fellow  student  who  is  capable  of  avowing  such  a 
compound  of  meanness  and  profligacy.  Every  real 
gentleman  who  enters  even  a  public  hotel,  will 
strictly  conform  to  the  rules  of  the  establishment, 
which  he  finds  suspended  on  the  wall,  or  imme- 
diately quit  the  house.  There  is  no  medium  in  the 
view  of  a  correct  mind.  I  would  infinitely  rather 
find  a  son  of  mine  honestly  confessing  his  delin- 
quency in  violating  a  college  law,  and  incurring 
the  whole  weight  of  the  penalty,  than  disgracing 
himself  by  pleas  which  evince  radical  obliquity  of 
moral  principle.  A  youth  of  substantially  pure 
moral  sentiments  and  habits  may  be  betrayed  into 
an  inadvertent  violation  of  a  statute  under  which 
he  has  voluntarily  placed  himself;  but  the  refined 
Jesuitism,  which  would  explain  away  a  palpable 


OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAWS,  29 

obligation,  and  justify  a  virtual  perjury,  is  ripe  for 
almost  every  crime  to  which  an  inducement  is  pre- 
sented. 

But,  independently  of  all  engagements,  either 
express  or  implied,  to  obey  the  laws  under  which 
you  are  placed,  as  members  of  a  college,  I  would 
suggest  some  considerations  in  favour  of  obedience 
to  them,  which  I  am  sure  you  will  think  weighty, 
unless  your  minds  are  more  deplorably  perverted 
by  a  factitious  system  of  morals,  than  my  affection 
for  you  will  allow  me  to  suppose.  When  you  are 
tempted  to  violate  the  smallest  law  of  the  institu- 
tion, let  the  following  reflections  occur  to  your 
minds,  and  exert  that  influence  which  I  am  sure 
they  will  on  every  enlightened  and  pure  conscience. 

1.  By  ivhom  were  these  lows  made?  Not  by 
capricious  or  unreasonable  tyrants.  Not  by  a  body 
of  austere,  gloomy  men,  who  had  forgotten  the  sea- 
son of  their  own  youth,  and  were  desirous  of 
abridging  your  comforts,  and  of  imposing  upon  you 
an  unnecessary  and  painful  yoke.  Not  at  all.  But 
by  the  trustees  of  the  institution;  by  a  body  of  en- 
lightened, reasonable,  conscientious  men,  who  have 
been  college  students  themselves;  and,  of  course, 
know  tlie  feelings,  the  temptations,  and  the  dangers 
of  students:— by  affectionate  and  faithful  parents 
who  feel  tenderly  for  the  welfare  and  happiness  of 
youth;  and  would  not  lay  upon  a  young  man  a 
single  restraint  which  they  did  not  know  would  be 

3* 


30  OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAAVS. 

for  his  good: — by  men  of  age,  and  culture,  and  expe- 
rience, who  have  not  only  been  young  themselves, 
but  who  have  seen  for  years  the  evils,  nay  the 
almost  certain  ruin,  to  which  students  are  exposed 
by  being  left  to  their  own  inclinations: — by  men 
whose  feelings  are  predominantly  kind  and  benevo- 
lent, and  who  would  never  vote  for  the  enactment 
of  any  law,  which  had  not  been  found  by  experi- 
ence to  be  indispensable: — by  men  who  have  delibe- 
rately taken  an  oath  to  promote  the  best  interests 
of  the  institution,  and  of  the  youth  committed  to 
their  care.  Surely  laws  formed  by  such  men;  deli- 
berately reviewed  and  persisted  in  from  year  to 
year;  and  carefully  modified  as  circumstances  may 
require; — ought  to  be  regarded  witli  deep  respect, 
and  to  bind  the  heart,  as  well  as  the  conscience,  of 
every  ingenuous  student.  The  young  man  who, 
when  such  laws  are  in  question,  can  treat  them 
with  contempt,  or  even  with  neglect,  has,  indeed, 
little  reason  to  plume  himself  upon  either  the 
soundness  of  his  understanding,  or  the  rectitude  of 
his  moral  feelings. 

2.  Reflect  ivhether  you  have  any  just  reason 
to  find  fault  with  any  one  of  these  laws.  I  do 
not  ask,  whether  many  disorderly  and  unprincipled 
students  would  not  ivish  some  of  them  to  be  re- 
pealed or  altered.  But  is  there  one  of  them  which 
will  not  stand  the  test  of  serious  and  impartial 
examination?     Is  there  one  of  them  unreasonable, 


OBEDIENCE   TO  THE   LAWS.  31 

harsh,  or  adapted  to  injure  either  those  who  are 
found  faithfully  obeying  it,  or  any  others?  Is  there 
one  concerning  which  you  can  lay  your  hands  on 
your  hearts,  and  say  that  it  would  be  for  the  bene- 
fit of  the  college  and  of  the  students  that  it  should 
be  repealed?  I  am  verily  persuaded  that  the  most 
reckless  and  licentious  member  of  your  college  or  of 
any  college — if  he  would  go  over  the  whole  code  of 
its  laws  in  detail,  and  suffer  his  sober  moral  sense 
deliberately  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  each  one,  could 
not  find  one  which  he  would  be  willing  to  say  ought 
to  be  expunged.  Let  him  single  out  from  all  the 
prohibited  offences  against  the  order  of  the  college, 
that  one  which  he  should  judge  to  involve  the  least 
degree  of  moral  turpitude,  and  tlien  ask  himself 
what  would  be  the  consequence  if  that  offence  were 
habitually  committed  by  every  student  in  the 
house?  This  is  the  real  test  to  which  every  matter 
of  the  kind  in  question  ought  to  be  brought.  He 
who  on  any  occasion,  or  in  regard  to  any  subject, 
allows  himself  to  do  a  thing,  or  to  act  upon  a  prin- 
ciple, which  if  it  were  made  the  principle  of  inii- 
versal  action  would  be  productive  of  much  mis- 
chief, must  be  considered  by  all  sober  thinkers  as 
an  offender  against  the  peace  and  order  of  society. 
Will  this  reasoning  be  deemed  too  refined,  or  too 
much  removed  from  the  feelings  of  common  life,  to 
be  recognised  as  practically  important  by  an  intel- 
ligent young  man,  who  is  beginning  to  feel  his 


38  OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAWS. 

obligations  as  a  patriot  and  a  social  being,  if  not  as 
a  Christian?  I  would  fain  hope  not.  There  must 
be  something  radically  rotten  in  the  moral  prin- 
ciples of  that  youth  who  refuses  to  consider 
whether  the  course  he  is  pursuing  is  injurious  or 
not  to  the  institution  with  which  he  is  connected, 
or  to  the  best  interests  of  society  at  largo;  or  who 
deliberately  resolves,  at  the  expense  of  such  injury, 
to  indnlge  his  criminal  passions.  Surely  he  need 
not  be  told,  that  this  is  the  essential  character  of 
those  wretched  invaders  of  the  peace  of  society, 
whom  public  justice  pronounces  unfit  to  go  at 
large,  or  even  to  live. 

3.  Retiect  further,  how  much  it  is  your  oiun  in- 
terest to  obey  every  jot  and  tittle  of  the  laws  under 
which  you  are  placed.  Need  I  say,  that  the  more 
scrupulous  and  faithful  your  obedience  to  all  the 
rules  of  the  institution,  the  less  of  your  time  will  be 
withdrawn  from  your  studies  and  wasted  in  plot- 
ting mischief;  in  adopting  mean  and  lying  contri- 
vances to  escape  detection;  and  in  that  uneasiness 
and  dissipation  of  thought  to  which  scenes  of  dis- 
order always  lead?  Many  a  deluded  youth  has 
forfeited  his  scholarship,  and  lost  his  standing  in  his 
.ass,  by  squandering  those  hours  in  plans  of  inge- 
nious disobedience  which  he  would  otherwise  have 
devoted  to  his  studies.  Remember,  too,  that  the 
more  exemplary  your  obedience  to  all  the  laws  of 
the  college,  the  more  you  will  gain  the  esteem  and 


OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAWS.  33 

confidence  of  your  instructors,  and  the  more  favour- 
able your  prospect  of  obtaining  that  grade  of  ho- 
nour in  your  class  to  which  your  talents  and 
acquirements  may  entitle  you.  For  it  must  not  be 
forgotten  that  in  every  well  regulated  and  faith- 
fully conducted  college,  the  moral  conduct  of  every 
student,  and  his  obedience  to  the  laws,  are  neces- 
sarily taken  into  the  account  in  estimating  his  title 
to  the  honours  dispensed  to  his  class.  Accordingly, 
I  have  known  students  of  the  finest  talents,  and  of 
elevated  attainments,  to  close  their  collegial  career 
in  the  second  if  not  the  third  s,xix(\e  of  literary  rank, 
merely  because  they  had  been  characteristically  re- 
gardless of  some  of  the  laws  of  the  institution  with 
which  they  were  connected;  and,  though  often  re- 
proved for  their  delinquency,  failed  to  profit  by  the 
admonitions  of  their  teachers.  Nor  did  any  one, 
except,  perhaps,  some  partial  and  blinded  parents, 
disapprove  of  the  award.  In  fact,  it  could  not  have 
been  ordered  otherwise,  without  gross  injustice  to 
the  individuals  concerned,  and  no  less  injustice  to 
the  institution  whose  laws  they  had  trampled  under 
feet.  Let  it  also  be  borne  in  mind  that  he  who  is 
punctual  in  obeying  every  prescribed  law,  is  more 
easy  and  comfortable  in  his  own  mind;  approaches 
his  teachers  and  his  fellow-students  with  more  fear- 
less confidence;  and  is  affected  with  none  of  that 
torturing  anxiety  which  must  ever,  in  a  greater  or 
less  degree,  invade  the  peace  of  him  who  is  con- 


34  OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAWS. 

scious  of  being  chargeable  with  habitual  violations 
of  the  laws  which  he  is  bound  to  obey.  How  sweet 
and  enviable  must  have  been  the  feelings  of  a  dis- 
tinguished young  gentleman  from  the  South,  of  fine 
talents  and  scholarship,  and  of  a  wealthy  family, 
whom  I  once  knew,  who  after  he  had  been  a  mem- 
ber of  the  college  in  this  place  for  several  years, 
was  able  to  say, "  I  am  not  conscious  of  having  vio- 
lated the  smallest  law  of  the  institution  since  I  have 
been  connected  with  it."  It  is  hardly  necessary 
to  say,  that  his  career  was  a  pleasant  and  honour- 
able one,  and  that  he  left  the  college  enjoying  the 
respect  and  love  of  all  who  knew  him. 

4.  Consider,  further,  hoiv  much  credit  you  will 
reflect  on  your  Mma  Mater  by  a  punctual  and 
exemplary  conformity  to  her  regulations.  Tra- 
vellers, in  passing  through  Princeton,  have  been, 
more  than  once,  prejudiced  against  our  college,  by 
happening  to  see  several  students  hanging  about 
the  tavern  doors;  swaggering  with  an  air  of  vulgar 
and  insolent  importance;  smoking,  and,  perhaps, 
using  profane  language.  Now,  though  I  conscien- 
tiously believe  that  scenes  of  this  kind  are  not  so 
frequently  exliibited  in  your  college  as  in  some 
others;  yet  whenever  exhibited,  they  will  not  fail 
to  prejudice  some  individuals  who  may  happen  to 
witness  them.  The  travellers  to  whom  I  refer, — 
not  pious,  but  worldly-minded  and  gay,  yet  polished 
and  reflecting,  have,  in  some  instances,  to  my  cer- 


OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAWS.  35 

tain  knowledge,  most  unjustly,  formed  conclusions 
against  the  college  from  this  unfavourable  specimen 
of  its  students;  and  have  resolved  never  to  send  a 
son  to  it,  lest  he  should  be  brought  up  in  the  midst 
of  vulgarity  and  profaneness. 

Impressions  of  this  kind,  though  most  unjust,  have 
been  more  than  once  made  by  the  appearance  of  a 
single  unfortunate  individual,  and  a  general  cha- 
racter of  the  college  and  of  its  inmates  thence  derived 
of  a  very  unfavourable  kind,  I  need  not  say,  that 
a  candid  and  generous  minded  young  man  would 
be  deeply  pained  at  the  thought  of  inflicting  such  a 
wound  on  the  reputation  of  his  literary  mother:  and 
that  he  would  consider  any  one  thus  capable  of 
sporting  with  the  character  of  an  individual,  and 
much  more  of  an  important  public  institution,  as 
deeply  guilty. 

5.  Reflect,  once  more,  on  the  position  in  ivhich 
your  teachers  are  placed  with  regard  to  the  exe- 
cution of  the  laws.  Perhaps  no  feeling  is  more 
apt  to  spring  up  in  the  minds  of  college  students, 
than  that  of  hostility  to  their  instructors.  They  are 
prone  to  consider  the  Faculty,  as,  of  course,  an 
adverse  body,  needlessly  strict,  and  even  tyrannical, 
and  leagued  against  their  pleasures.  From  this 
feeling  the  transition  is  easy  to  the  habit  of  regard- 
ing the  faculty,  in  enforcing  the  laws,  as  a  body 
which  it  is  no  sin  to  oppose,  and  over  which  it  is 
rather  a  meritorious  act  to  gain  a  triumph.     Can  it 


36  OBEDIENCE   TO  THE  LAWS. 

be  necessary  to  employ  reasoning  to  show  that  such 
feehngs  and  sentiments  are  highly  absurd;  and  that 
those  who  indulge  them  take  the  most  preposterous 
ground?  Are  not  the  members  of  college  faculties 
men  of  like  passions  with  others?  Is  it  reasonable 
to  accuse  them  of  gratuitous  and  wanton  oppres- 
sion? Can  they  be  supposed  to  have  an  interest  in 
making  the  college  to  which  they  belong  unpopular 
with  either  parents  or  young  men,  and,  of  course, 
driving  students  away  from  it?  On  the  contrary, 
is  it  not  manifestly  the  interest  of  every  one,  from 
the  president  down  to  the  youngest  tutor,  to  teach 
and  govern  in  such  a  manner  as  to  be  acceptable  to 
all,  and  to  draw  as  many  students  as  possible  to 
the  institution  with  which  he  is  connected?  True, 
indeed,  they  have  all  solemnly  sworn  faithfully  to 
execute  the  laws  of  the  institutions  in  which  they 
are  respectively  placed  as  teachers;  and  if  they  are 
wise  and  honest  men,  they  are  fully  persuaded,  that 
carrying  all  the  laws  into  execution,  is  the  best 
method  for  securing  the  welfare  and  happiness  of 
the  pupils  themselves,  as  well  as  the  best  interest 
of  all  concerned.  Under  these  engagements  and 
convictions  can  they  be  blamed  for  acting  accord- 
ing to  their  conscientious  impressions  of  duty? 
Would  you  not  secretly  despise  them  if  they  acted 
otherwise?  How  unreasonable,  then,  the  prejudice 
against  them  for  discharging  a  duty  which  all  ac- 
knowledge to  be  solemnly  required  at  their  hands! 


OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAWS.  37 

The  truth  is,  instead  of  there  being  any  temptation 
impelling  the  members  of  any  faculty  to  be  over- 
rigorous  or  oppressive  in  the  execution  of  college 
laws,  the  temptation  is,  in  almost  all  cases,  the  other 
way.  And  I  am  compelled  to  say,  that,  after  going 
through  a  college  course  myself,  more  than  fifty 
years  agoj  and  after  having  been  an  attentive  ob- 
server of  the  character,  course  of  instruction  and 
discipline  of  different  colleges  for  more  than  forty 
years; — I  say,  after  all  this  opportunity  for  observa- 
tion, I  am  constrained  to  assert,  that  I  have  seldom 
known  any  college  faculty  to  err  on  the  side  of  ex- 
cessive rigour  in  the  execution  of  the  code  of  laws 
with  which  they  were  entrusted;  but  that  the  mis- 
take has,  almost  always,  been  on  the  side  of  undue 
laxity  rather  than  the  reverse.  Discipline  has  com- 
monly been  either  too  tardy  in  its  pace,  or  marked 
with  too  much  lenity  in  its  character.  Here  has 
been  the  fruitful  source  of  a  large  portion  of  the 
evils  which  beset  bands  of  college  students.  If  dis- 
cipline were  conducted  with  more  strictness  than  it 
is,  rather  than  less;  if  learners  in  our  public  institu- 
tions were  more  accustomed  to  "  bear  the  yoke  in 
their  youth,"  it  were  better  for  them,  and  better  for 
the  institutions  to  which  they  belong. 

I  hope,  my  dear  sons,  it  is  not  necessary  for  me 

to  say,  that  my  object,  in  all  that  has  been  said,  is 

not  to  make  you  either  mopes  or  slaves.     On  the 

contrary,  I  am  persuaded  that  the  more  perfectly 

4 


38  OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAWS. 

you  imbibe  the  spirit,  and  form  the  habits  which  I 
have  recommended,  the  more  happy;  the  more 
truly  free  and  independent;  the  more  manly  and 
gentlemanly  in  the  best  sense  of  those  words;  the 
more  highly  respectable  you  will  ever  appear,  in 
your  own  eyes,  and  in  the  eyes  of  all  around  you. 
My  acquaintance  with  college  students  has  been 
large,  and  somewhat  intimate;  and  my  recollection 
enables  me  unequivocally  to  affirm,  that  the  most 
accomplished  scholars,  the  most  enlarged  and  in- 
dependent thinkers,  the  most  high-minded  and 
honourable  individuals  of  the  whole  number  that 
I  have  ever  known,  were  precisely  those  whose 
obedience  to  the  laws  was  most  perfect;  who  knew 
the  value  of  order  in  conduct  as  well  as  in  study; 
who  invariably  treated  their  instructors  with  re- 
spect, and  enjoyed  their  entire  confidence;  who  never 
met  them  but  with  an  erect  and  assured  counte- 
nance; and  whose  whole  character  was  regarded 
by  all  their  associates  as  elevated  and  honourable. 
Such  has  been  my  invariable  experience.  To  ima- 
gine that  the  contrary  is  apt  to  be  the  case,  is  a 
miserable  delusion.  So  fixed  is  my  persuasion  of 
the  truth  of  this  statement,  that  whenever  I  hear 
that  a  young  man  has  fallen  under  the  frowns  and 
the  discipline  of  his  instructors,  I  take  for  granted, 
without  a  moment's  hesitation,  that  he  is  a  poor 
scholar,  and  that,  however  he  may  boast  of  his 


OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAWS.  39 

"  lionour,"  or  his  "independence,"  he  has  very  little 
of  either  to  spare. 

Do  yon  ask  me  what  portiojis  or  classes  of  the 
laws,  I  would  have  you  studiously  to  obey?  I 
answer,  the  whole — every  "jot  and  tittle,"  from 
the  most  deeply  vital  to  the  most  trivial  and  minute. 
You  as  really  break  the  laws  of  the  institution  with 
which  you  are  connected,  and  as  really  forfeit  that 
"  truth  and  honour"  which  you  have  virtually,  if  not 
formally,  pledged — by  cutting  with  your  penknife 
the  fences  and  doors,  and  window  casements  and 
seats  of  the  college,  as  by  more  bold  and  dangerous 
acts  of  disorder.  Only  suppose  every  one  to  in- 
dulge in  such  a  propensity,  and  to  what  a  disgusting 
and  miserable  state  would  everything  in  and  about 
the  college  edifices  be  speedily  reduced!  But  it  is 
my  wish,  ivith  peculiar  emphasis,  to  guard  you 
against  all  participation  in  those  infractions  of  law 
which  lead  to  public  disturbance,  and  especially 
which  endanger  health  or  life.  When  I  have 
heard  of  students  who  claimed  to  be  young  "gen- 
tlemen of  honour,"  exploding  gunpowder  in  the 
college-rooms,  to  the  destruction  of  property,  and 
at  the  most  imminent  risk  of  personal,  and  perhaps 
fatal,  injury  of  some  fellow  student  or  teacher,  I 
have  found  it  difficult  to  avoid  the  impression,  not 
merely  that  the  perpetrator  was  an  unprincipled 
and  dishonoured  youth;  but  that  he  was  actuated 
by  those  reckless  and  vile  passions  which  distiu- 


40  OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAWS, 

guish  the  murderer;  that  he  is  wholly  unfit  to 
occupy  a  place  in  decent  society;  and  that  the  state 
prison  is  his  proper  abode. 

Say  not  that  this  language  is  too  severe.  It  is 
the  language  "  of  truth  and  soberness."  It  is  true, 
I  should  lament  such  an  outrage,  if  not  followed 
by  fatal  effects,  less — much  less  than  where  a  life 
had  been  lost.  But,  as  to  the  quo  uyiimo,  it  does 
really  appear  to  me,  that  he  who  can  deliberately 
lend  himself  to  such  an  outrage  as  has  been  referred 
to,  deserves  little  if  any  less  abhorrence  than  many 
a  midnight  assassin. 

I  have  only  to  add,  that,  where  this  species  of 
outrage  is  so  planned  and  conducted  (as  has  more 
than  once  occurred  in  different  colleges)  as  to  in- 
vade the  peace  of  a  private  family,  and  to  fill  with 
terror  and  with  anguish,  and  expose  to  imminent 
danger,  delicate  females,  there  is  a  degree  of  bru- 
tality added  to  crime,  of  which  it  is  not  easy  to 
speak  in  terms  expressive  of  adequate  abhorrence. 

There  appear  to  be  strange  misapprehensions  of 
moral  principle  in  the  minds  of  many  of  the  mem- 
bers of  our  literary  institutions.  1  have  known 
young  men  who  would  have  shrunk  with  instinc- 
tive abhorrence  from  stealing  private  property;  who 
would  have  thought  themselves  permanently  and 
deeply  dishonoured,  by  injuring  the  dwelling,  or 
invading  the  peace  of  a  private  family;  who  could, 
at   the   same   time,   without   any  feeling  of  self- 


OBEDIENCE  TO  THE   LAWS.  41 

reproach  or  shame,  take  out  and  bear  off,  without 
permission,  a  book  from  a  public  hbrary,  and  ne- 
glect to  return  it;  who  could  break  or  purloin  a  rare 
and  valuable  piece  of  philosophical  apparatus;  de- 
face or  destroy  the  property  of  the  college  to  which 
they  were  so  much  indebted,  in  a  manner  which  if 
it  were  directed  against  their  own  property,  they 
would  feel  justified  in  prosecuting  the  invader  to 
the  penitentiary;  and,  in  short,  act  as  if,  by  becom- 
ing a  pupil  in  a  public  institution,  they  became,  in 
a  sort,  joint  partners  in  all  the  property  of  the  insti- 
tution, and  entitled  to  treat  it  as  in  a  measure  their 
own,  or  with  more  reckless  waste  than  they  would 
their  own.  A  more  preposterous  notion  cannot  be 
entertained  by  any  mind.  Recollect,  I  beseech  you, 
that  no  part  of  the  property  of  the  college  is  yours. 
The  whole  of  it  is  vested  in  a  corporation — the 
board  of  trustees — for  a  great  public  benefit.  They 
permit  you  and  your  fellow  students  to  enter,  and 
enjoy  the  privileges  of  the  institution.  To  prepare 
it  for  your  beneficial  use,  they  have  toiled  and 
laboured  much,  and  gone  to  great  expense,  and  are 
daily  incurring  large  expenditures.  So  far  from 
their  being  debtors  to  you,  you  are  deep  debtors  to 
them;  and,  therefore,  when  you  injure  or  destroy 
their  property,  you  add  the  gross  sin  of  robbery  to 
criminal  ingratitude.  You  are  guilty  of  a  public 
wrong,  involving,  in  some  respects,  a  deeper  moral 
turpitude  than  that  which  is  of  a  private  nature. 
4* 


42  OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAWS, 

For  my  part,  when  I  see  a  young  man  in  college 
disorderly  in  his  habits;  disobedient  to  law;  labour- 
ing to  deceive,  and  vex,  and  outwit  his  instructors, 
and  injure  the  property  of  the  institution,  I  have 
scarcely  ever  the  least  hope  that  he  will  make  a 
decent  or  a  useful  man.  I  have  carefully  watched 
hundreds  of  this  character,  and  have  rarely  found 
my  augury  of  their  fate  falsified.  Such  young  men 
have  generally  turned  out  disreputable  members  of 
society — drunkards,  gamblers,  swindlers,  duellists; 
and  have  been  either  in  mercy  to  society  cut  off  in 
their  course,  and  consigned  to  an  early  grave;  or 
spared  only  to  be  a  curse  to  the  community,  and  a 
disgrace  and  an  anguish  to  all  who  took  an  interest 
in  their  welfare. 

It  cannot  be  doubted,  that,  on  this  subject,  pa- 
rents are  oftentimes  quite  as  much,  if  not  more  to 
blame  than  their  sons,  who  are  chargeable  with  vio- 
lating college  laws.  Both  parents  and  children,  in 
many  cases,  seem  to  labour  under  the  mistake,  that 
students,  and  the  members  of  the  college  faculty,  by 
whom  they  are  instructed  and  governed,  are  to  be 
considered  as  standing  upon  an  equal  footing,  and 
that  their  intercourse  ought  to  be  that  of  independ- 
ent gentlemer.  with  each  other.  To  illustrate  this 
fact,  1  would  refer  you  to  a  case  which  not  long 
since  occurred— not,  I  am  happy  to  say,  in  the  Col- 
lege of  New  Jersey,  but  in  one  of  the  distant  col- 
leges in  our  land.     Three  young  men  were  sent  to 


OBEDIENCE  TO  THE  LAWS.  43 

the  institution  in  question,  by  their  respective  pa- 
rents. In  a  short  time  after  one  of  them  had  reached 
the  college,  he  violated  one  of  the  laws,  and  was 
pointedly  reproved  by  a  professor.  He  immediately 
wrote  to  his  father  that  the  professor  had  insulted 
him.  The  father  promptly  answered  thus:—"  My 
son,  go  and  purchase  for  yourself  the  largest  cane 
in  the  town,  and  break  it  over  the  professor's  head." 
The  other  two  wrote  to  their  father  that  after  hav- 
ing tried  the  college  for  a  few  weeks,  they  were  not 
pleased  with  it,  and,  without  any  permission,  had 
removed  to  another  college,  and  had  taken  lodgings 
in  the  best  hotel  in  the  place!  Of  such  young  men 
no  reasonable  person  would  ever  expect  to  hear 
any  good.  And  it  is  certainly  quite  reasonable  to 
add,  that  when  such  young  men  go  to  destruction, 
and  disgrace  their  families,  by  far  the  largest 
amount  of  blame  lies  at  the  door  of  their  parents. 


44 


LETTER    III 


MANNERS. 


Non  contemnenda,  tanquam  parva,  sine  quibus  magna    constare 
non  possint.  Jerome. 

Mr  Dear  Sons, 

It  is  remarked,  by  a  good  writer,  that  "  tlie  an- 
cients began  the  education  of  their  children  by 
forming  their  hearts  and  manners.  They  taught 
them  the  duty  of  men,  and  of  citizens.  We  teach 
them  the  languages  of  the  ancients,  and  leave  their 
morals  and  manners  to  shift  for  themselves." 
Without  pausing  to  examine  either  the  justice,  or 
the  proper  extent  of  this  statement,  it  cannot  be 
doubted  that  there  is  a  measure  of  truth  in  it.  It 
cannot  be  doubted  that  the  majority  of  the  youth 
of  the  present  day,  who  have  been  trained  in 
literature  and  science,  manifest  less  modesty,  less 
of  the  becoming  spirit  of  subordination,  less  re- 
spect for  age,  less  of  gentle,  docile,  filial  deference 
for  superiors,  than  were  common  in  the  days  of 
our  fathers.  I  trust  that,  in  saying  this,  I  shall 
not  be  set  down  as  a  prejudiced  ^^  laudator  tem- 
poris  acti;"  as  unreasonably  yielding  to  the  par- 


MANNERS.  45 

tiality  of  an  old  man  for  the  days  and  habits  of 
his  youth.  Fifty  or  sixty  years  ago,  unless  I  am 
greatly  deceived,  the  intercourse  between  the  pro- 
fessors and  tutors  of  our  colleges  and  their  pupils 
was  considerably  different  from  what  it  now  is. 
There  is  less  of  sovereign,  unquestioned,  parental 
authority  on  the  part  of  the  former;  and  much  less 
of  that  implicit  obedience  on  the  part  of  the  latter, 
and  of  those  outward  testimonials  of  respect  and 
reverence  which  were  then  deemed  indispensable. 
In  my  early  days,  in  several  of  the  most  respectable 
and  popular  colleges  in  our  country,  no  student  ever 
entered  the  public  edifice  in  which  he  either  lodged 
or  recited  without  taking  off  his  hat:  nor  did  he 
ever  allow  himself  to  come  within  a  number  of  feet 
of  any  officer  of  the  college,  either  within  doors  or 
in  the  open  air,  without  uncovering  his  head.  The 
approach  of  such  an  officer  would,  then,  instantly 
command  silence  and  perfect  decorum.  Is  it  so 
now?  and  is  the  alteration  for  the  better  or  the 
worse?  If  there  were  in  the  old  habits  of  some  of 
our  colleges  an  air  of  formal  servility,  is  there  not, 
at  present,  too  often  an  air  of  disrespect  and  in- 
solent boorishness?  Surely  this  ought  not  to  be 
so.  When  our  country  is  growing  every  day  in 
wealth,  in  literature,  and  certainly  in  some  spe- 
cies of  refinement,  our  youth  ought  to  be  growing 
in  all  that  is  calculated  to  distinguish  and  adorn  in- 
tellectual and  moral  cultin-e,and  to  exhibit  them  as 


46  MANNERS. 

worthy  of  the  advantages  under  which  they  are 
placed. 

It  appears  to  me  that  many  young  men  in  col- 
lege labour  under  an  entire  mistake  in  regard  to  the 
motives  which  ought  to  influence  them  in  regulat- 
ing their  manners.  They  seem  to  think  that,  un- 
less they  have  a  sincere  personal  respect  for  the 
individuals  or  bodies  with  whom  they  are  called 
to  have  intercourse,  they  may,  without  any  dis- 
credit to  themselves,  indulge  in  behaviour  which, 
in  other  circumstances,  would  be  liable  to  the 
charge  of  rudeness.  But  a  little  reflection  cannot 
fail  of  convincing  any  sober  mind  that  this  is  a 
great  error.  For,  in  Xhejit^st  place,  we  are  bound, 
upon  every  principle,  to  treat  with  deference  and 
respect  those  who  are  set  over  us  in  authority, 
whatever  may  be  our  estimate  of  their  personal 
character.  Their  office  is  worthy  of  respect,  even 
if  their  persoiis  be  not.  But,  independently  of 
this  consideration,  which,  to  every  thinking  mind, 
is  conclusive,  we  are,  in  the  second  place,  bound 
thus  to  conduct  ourselves,  upon  the  principle  of 
self-respect.  When  any  one  treats  with  rudeness 
those  whom  he  is  bound  officially  to  obey,  he  may 
flatter  himself  that  he  is  displaying  his  spirit^  and 
manifesting  elevation  of  character;  but,  instead  of 
this,  he  is  only  displaying  his  own  vulgarity  and 
ignorance  of  the  world,  and  manifesting  that  he  is 
no  gentleman,  whatever  claim  to  that  title  he  may 


MANNERS.  47 

imagine  himself  to  possess.  One  of  the  most  per- 
fect models  of  good-breeding  that  I  ever  saw  in  my 
life,  was  accustomed  to  overcome  the  incivility  of 
the  rude  by  the  most  entire  respectfulness  of  man- 
ner on  his  part.  I  have  known  him  to  disarm 
even  brutality  itself  by  returning  the  strictest  polite- 
ness to  the  most  rufllan  insolence. 

Let  me  earnestly  entreat  you, then, to  be  careful — 
constantly  and  vigilantly  careful  of  your  manners  to 
ALL,  but  especially  to  three  classes  of  persons. 

1.  To  all  the  members  of  the  faculty  of  the 
college.  These  gentlemen  are  officially  set  over 
you;  and,  by  entering  the  college,  you  have  volun- 
tarily come  under  a  virtual  engagement  to  submit 
to  their  authority,  and  to  honour  their  persons. 
The  supposition  is,  that  they  are  all  well  qualified 
for  their  office,  and  are  personally  deserving  of  your 
highest  respect.  But  whether  this  be  so  or  not, 
there  is  but  one  course  for  you — and  that  is,  to  con- 
form to  the  spirit  of  the  laws,  and  ever  to  treat 
them  as  if  they  were  perfectly  worthy  of  veneration 
as  well  as  obedience.  He  who  is  disrespectful  to 
his  teachers,  dishonours  himself  more  than  them. 
If,  therefore,  I  had  no  regard  to  anything  but  your 
own  reputation,  I  would  say,  pay  them  unceasing 
and  vigilant  respect.  Treat  them  all — from  the 
president  down  to  the  youngest  tutor — with  scru- 
pulous decorum  and  politeness.  Never  accost  them, 
or  pass  them,  whether  in   the   public   edifice,  in 


48  MANNERS. 

the  campus,  or  in  the  street,  without  lifting,  or,  at 
least,  touching  the  hat.  Never  speak  to  them  but 
with  the  tone  and  manner  appropriate  to  one  who 
is  addressing  a  superior.  This  testimonial  of  re- 
spect is  every  where  dictated  by  the  most  obvious 
sense  of  propriety;  and  is  really  as  much  due  to 
yourselves,  as  claiming  to  be  well-bred  young  gen- 
tlemen, as  it  is  to  the  official  personage  to  whom  it 
is  directed.  Indeed  I  never  allow  myself  to  enter 
an  inhabited  house,  whatever  may  be  the  rank  or 
the  social  position  of  its  inmates,  without  taking  off 
my  hat.  I  should  certainly  expect  them  to  do  so 
in  my  own  house,  and  I  would  not  be  behind  them 
in  politeness. 

I  have  often  been  amazed  to  see  young  men  who 
laid  claim  to  the  title  o{ gentlejnen,  enter  rooms  in 
which  the  president  or  some  other  officer  of  col- 
lege was  seated  or  standing,  and  keep  on  their  hats 
until  they  had  passed,  perhaps,  immediately  by  the 
chair  of  such  officer,  over  the  whole  length  of  the 
apartment  to  a  seat  at  its  remote  end,  and  there  slow- 
ly remove  them,  sometimes  after  being  seated  them- 
selves, and  with  an  air  as  if  they  scarcely  thought 
it  worth  while  to  take  them  off  even  then.  I 
never  see  this  without  confidently  taking  for  grant- 
ed that  young  men  who  can  so  conduct  themselves, 
are  grossly  ignorant  of  the  world,  and,  wiiatever 
else  may  have  belonged  to  their  history,  have  had 
a  very  vulgar  breeding.  They  dishonour  themselves 


MANNERS.  49 

far  more  than   they  dishonour  the  objects  of  this 
rudeness. 

I  have  been  sometimes  h'ttle  less  disgusted  to  see 
young  men,tlie  children  of  respectable  parents,  and 
who  ought  to  have  been  taught  better,  rising,  when 
questioned  at  a  recitation,  or  an  examination,  and 
answering  with  an  air  and  manner  becoming  those 
who  felt  themselves  superior  to  their  examiners, 
and  who  wished  to  testify  how  little  respect  they 
felt  for  them.  Such  things  evince  as  much  the  lack 
of  good  breeding  as  of  good  sense;  and  instead  of 
manifesting  that  manliness,  independence,  and  ele- 
vation of  character  which  are  intended  to  be  dis- 
played, are  rather  disgusting  testimonies  of  igno- 
rance and  boyish  self-consequence. 

Another  practice  which  I  have  observed  with 
pain  among  students  of  college,  in  their  recitation 
rooms,  and  in  other  similar  situations,  in  the  pre- 
sence of  their  instructors,  is  their  disrespectful  mode 
of  sitting.  I  mean  sitting  with  iheix  feet  lifted  up, 
on  the  top  of  an  opposite  bench  or  chair,  and 
stretched  out  in  the  magisterial  manner  of  a  master 
among  his  menials,  or  of  a  boon  companion  loung- 
ing among  his  equals.  No  truly  well  bred  person 
ever  allows  himself  to  sit  in  this  manner  in  the 
presence  of  his  superiors,  or  even  of  his  equals, 
unless  they  are  his  daily  and  hourly  associates. 
Would  not  any  young  man  who  had  enjoyed  a 
training  above  the  grossly  vulgar  be  shocked  to  see 
5 


50  MANNERS. 

an  attitude  of  this  kind  assumed  by  any  one  in  a 
decent  circle  in  a  parlour?  Surely  in  the  presence 
of  his  official  superiors  he  ought  to  be  quite  as  par- 
ticular. I  lay  claim  to  no  special  delicacy  or  refine- 
ment in  my  early  training;  but  truth  requires  me  to 
say,  that,  such  as  it  was,  if  I  had  been  ever  seen  to 
sit  in  the  presence  of  my  parents,  or  of  any  decent 
company,  as  I  have  often  seen  members  of  college 
sitting  in  the  presence  of  their  instructors,  I  should 
have  met  with  a  prompt  and  severe  rebuke. 

Imagine  to  yourselves  the  deportment  which  you 
ought  ever  to  exhibit  toward  beloved  and  venerated 
parents,  in  yielding  prompt  obedience  to  all  their 
commands,  and  showing  by  every  word,  and  look, 
and  tone,  and  gesture,  that  you  wished  to  treat  them 
with  perfect  respect;  picture  to  yourselves  this  de- 
portment, and  you  have  the  model  of  that  which  I 
earnestly  desire  my  sons  ever  to  display  toward 
their  official  instructors.  In  giving  this  counsel,  as 
I  remarked  in  a  preceding  letter,  you  cannot  sus- 
pect me  of  a  desire  to  cultivate  in  my  children  a 
spirit  oi  servility ;  on  the  contrary,  my  earnest  de- 
sire is  that  they  should  ever  cultivate  those  manly 
and  elevated  sentiments  which  evince  true  magna- 
nimity of  spirit,  and  prepare  for  the  most  honourable 
course  of  action.  And,  truly,  you  were  never  more 
mistaken  if  you  suppose  that  the  manifestation  of 
perfect  reverence  and  docility  toward  your  instruct- 
ors indicates  any  other  than  a  spirit  of  real  dignity 


MANNERS.  51 

and  independence.  Here  the  path  of  perfect  obedi- 
ence is  the  only  path  to  perfect  freedom  and  honour. 

It  is,  perhaps,  as  proper  to  notice  under  this  head 
as  anywhere  else  a  piece  of  ill  manners  which  I 
have  seen  displayed  in  a  certain  collegiate  institu- 
tion to  my  great  disgust  and  annoyance.  I  mean 
the  exhibition  of  a  cigar  in  the  mouth  of  a  student 
in  a  public  procession,  and  he  puffing  his  smoke  in 
the  face  of  all  who  approached  or  passed  him. 
There  is  such  a  concentration  of  vulgarity  and  offen- 
siveness  in  this  thing  that  I  know  not  how  to  speak 
of  it  in  terms  of  adequate  reprobation.  Few  prac- 
tices are  more  frequently  connected  with  rustic  and 
disagreeable  manners,  and  offensive  habits  of  va- 
rious kinds,  than  the  use  of  tobacco  in  any  way. 
But  to  see  a  student  sporting  a  cigar  in  a  college 
procession,  argues  such  a  total  want  of  decorum  and 
refinement  as  ought  never  to  be  seen  in  civilized 
society.  Indeed  such  an  exhibition  is  such  an  out- 
rage, on  good  manners,  that  I  should  be  ashamed 
to  speak  of  it,  had  I  not  with  my  own  eyes  seen 
it— not  in  a  public  street,  or  campus  merely,  but  in 
one  of  the  entries  of  a  college  edifice,  and  that  on 
an  occasion  on  which  I  was  not  a  little  mortified 
that  so  many  strangers  should  have  an  opportunity 
of  seeing  a  fact  so  disreputable  to  the  state  of  man- 
ners in  a  literary  institution. 

Of  the  various  habits  commonly  connected  with 
the  free  use  of  tobacco  one  ought  not  to  pass  unno- 


52  MANNERS. 

ticed  here,  when  speaking  of  good  manners,  I  refer 
particularly  to  the  vulgar  and  disgusting  practice  of 
spitting  profusely  on  the  floors  around  the  offender, 
and  running  the  risk  of  bespattering  every  indivi- 
dual in  his  neighbourhood.  I  have  known  young 
men  in  the  apartments  of  a  college,  when  I  was  sit- 
ting beside  them,  smell  so  strongly  of  tobacco  smoke 
as  to  be  scarcely  endurable,  and  at  the  same  time 
squirting  their  tobacco  juice  around  them  in  such 
quantities,  and  with  so  little  delicacy,  that  I  had  no 
alternative  but  either  to  change  my  seat,  or  to  have 
my  stomach  turned.  I  preferred  the  former.  But 
how  shameful  for  any  one  who  calls  himself  a  gen- 
tleman to  subject  those  who  approach  him  to  such 
a  severe  tax! 

The  truth  is,  when  I  see  a  student  parading  the 
streets  with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth,  and  manifesting 
a  devoted  attachment  to  the  use  of  tobacco,  I  am 
pretty  much  in  the  habit  of  giving  up  all  hope  of 
his  future  respectability  and  honour.  I  consider  him 
as  the  slave  of  an  indulgence  which  I  have  seen 
betray  so  many  into  the  most  degrading  intemper- 
ance, and  so  many  others  into  incurable  ill  health, 
that  I  cannot  help  regarding  the  devotee  to  this 
practice  as  eminently  in  danger  of  being  lost  to  all 
that  is  honourable  and  good.  But  more  of  this 
hereafter, 

2.  Be  attentive  to  your  manners  in  all  your  in- 
tercourse with  your  fellow  students.    No  one  can 


MANNERS.  53 

depend  on  his  deportment  being  such  as  it  ought  to 
be  on  special  occasions,  when  he  meets  his  su]}e- 
riors,  unless  he  is  careful  to  form  correct  habits  in 
this  respect,  in  his  intercourse  with  all.  Hence 
wise  counsellors  tell  us,  that  if  we  desire  to  succeed 
in  making  healthful  and  graceful  postures  natural 
to  us,  we  must  take  care  to  maintain  them  in  our 
private  apartments,  and  in  our  habitual  and  every- 
day attitudes.  Not  only  on  this  account,  but  also 
for  the  purpose  of  promoting  pleasant  and  profita- 
ble intercourse  with  your  fellow  students,  I  would 
earnestly  exhort  you  to  be  pointedly  attentive  to 
your  manners  even  amidst  all  the  unceremonious 
freedom  of  daily  and  hourly  communication  with 
your  equals.  It  would,  indeed,  border  on  the  ridi- 
culous in  intercourse  with  fellow  students  to  adhere 
to  all  the  punctilious  forms  of  etiquette  which  ought 
to  be  observed  in  regard  to  strangers  and  superiors; 
but  still,  even  with  class-mates,  and  room-mates, 
there  may  be  unwise  freedoms,  and  disgusting 
coarseness,  which  ought  to  be  carefully  avoided  by 
all  who  would  derive  the  greatest  advantage  from 
the  society  of  their  fellows. 

In  framing  a  general  code  of  manners  for  regu- 
lating intercourse  with  fellow  students,  the  great 
difficulty  is  to  avoid  such  details  as  would  be 
tedious,  and  at  the  same  time  to  go  into  particulars 
sufficiently  to  furnish  an  adequate  guide  for  most 
practical  occasions.  I  shall  endeavour  to  pursue 
5* 


54  MANNERS. 

such  a  middle  course  as  to  make  my  counsels 
intelligible,  and  adapted  to  the  occurrences  of  every 
day,  without  being  unduly  minute. 

Remember,  then,  if  you  desire  to  be  regarded  by 
every  fellow  student  with  good  will  and  respect,  to 
avoid  every  tiling  that  is  adapted  to  wound  or  irri- 
tate feelings.  The  language  of  ridicule,  of  sneer, 
of  sarcasm,  of  harsh  censure,  can  never  be  uttered, 
even  to  your  most  intimate  companion,  without 
producing  more  or  less  alienation.  A  rough  tone, 
a  contemptuous  look,  a  disrespectful  epithet  or  in- 
sinuation, seldom  fails  to  leave  an  impression, 
which,  though  not  openly  resented  at  the  moment, 
is  not  easily  effaced.  I  have  known  such  impres- 
sions to  last  for  years,  and  him  who  received  them 
to  complain,  that,  though  retaining  them  was  con- 
trary to  his  own  better  judgment,  he  was  unable  to 
dismiss  them  from  his  mind.  If  a  fellow  student 
be  of  such  a  temper  or  character  that  you  wish  to 
avoid  all  intercourse  with  him,  let  not  your  deport- 
ment, unless  in  very  extreme  and  extraordinary 
cases,  be  that  of  haughty  contempt,  of  scorn,  or  of 
open  reproach,  which  might  naturally  lead  to  colli- 
sion and  violence;  a  collision  and  violence  always  to 
be  deprecated  in  proportion  to  the  evil  character  of 
the  individual  desired  to  be  avoided.  Many  a  youth, 
under  the  impulse  of  a  generous  and  high-minded 
abhorrence  of  vice,  has  inconsiderately  testified  that 
abhorrence  in  a  way  which  has  unnecessarily  drawn 


MANNERS.  55 

upon  him  the  bitter  resentment  and  brutal  violence 
of  a  ruffian,  which  might  easily  have  been  avoided 
without  any  unfaithfulness  to  the  cause  of  virtue. 
The  aim  of  a  young  person,  to  avoid  giving  coun- 
tenance to  vice,  may  be  much  more  appropriately 
and  happily  gained,  by  a  deportment  of  dignified 
reserve,  of  quiet  and  silent  but  firm  withdrawment 
from  all  communication. 

But  in  regard  to  those  fellow  students  who  do 
not,  by  either  folly  or  vice,  render  all  comfortable 
intercourse  with  them  impracticable,  make  a  point 
of  maintaining,  toward  them  all,  a  deportment  re- 
spectful, kind  and  conciliatory.  You  will,  of  course, 
be  more  intimate  with  some  than  with  others. 
Nay,  I  would  strongly  advise  you  to  be  really  hiti- 
mate  with  very  few.  But  for  such  intimacy  I  hope 
you  will  not  fail  to  select  the  best  scholars,  and  the 
most  polished,  pure  and  honourable  of  the  whole 
number; — those  whose  talents  and  acquirements 
will  render  their  society  profitable,  and  whose  moral 
correctness  will  render  them  safe  associates.  But 
while  you  do  this,  try  to  establish  with  all  tlie 
character  of  perfect  gentlemen,  and  young  men  of 
strict  honour.  x\void  all  lofty  airs;  all  repulsive 
looks,  gestures  and  language  in  addressing  them. 
Be  ready  to  oblige,  affable  and  accommodating  to 
every  one.  You  will  find  a  number  of  students  in 
the  college,  and  perhaps  some  among  your  class- 
mates, whose  parents  are  known  to  be  in  straitened 


56  MANNERS. 

circumstances,  and  who  manifest  by  their  strict 
economy,  their  plain  dress,  and  by  all  their  habits, 
that  they  are  poor.  Let  me  charge  you  never  to 
be  guilty  of  the  weakness  of  undervaluing  such, 
merely  on  account  of  tlieir  poverty,  and  preferring 
to  associate  with  the  children  of  the  rich,  merely  on 
account  of  their  fancied  superior  rank.  There  is  a 
littleness  and  a  folly  in  such  estimates  of  which  I 
hope  my  children  will  never  be  guilty.  Respect 
and  treat  every  student  according  to  his  personal 
worth,  not  according  to  his  purse.  Recollect  that, 
a  few  years  hence,  the  youth  the  scantiness  of 
whose  finances  kept  him  modest  and  sober-minded, 
may  be  found  to  have  far  outstripped  in  learning, 
in  wisdom,  in  virtue  and  true  elevation  in  society, 
the  son  of  the  proudest  nabob,  who,  on  account  of 
his  well-Jined  pocket,  proved  a  miserable  scholar, 
and  an  ignoble  profligate. 

3.  I  iiave  only  to  add,  that  it  is  of  more  import- 
ance than  is  commonly  supposed  for  college  stu- 
dents to  maintain  becoming  manners  toivard  the 
inhabitants  of  the  town  when  called  to  have  inter- 
course with  them.  The  readiness  of  college  stu- 
dents to  quarrel  with  the  townspeople  in  the  midst 
of  whom  they  live,  is  an  old  occurrence,  to  which 
there  is  a  continual  tendency,  and  of  which  the 
cotisequences  are  as  mischievous  as  they  are  pain- 
ful. The  pride  and  folly  of  students  are  apt  to  take 
the  alarm  where  no  insult  or  injury  was  intended; 


MANNERS.  57 

and  the  morbid  and  ridiculous  sensibility  of  towns- 
people frequently  leads  them  seriously  to  resent  that 
which  ought  to  have  been  overlooked  as  an  effu- 
sion of  childish  weakness.  In  how  many  instances 
has  this  miserable  folly  led  to  conflicts  and  violence 
of  which  all  parties  had  reason  to  be  ashamed! 

My  desire,  my  dear  sons,  and  my  earnest  advice 
is,  that  in  moving  about  through  the  village  in 
which  your  college  is  placed,  and  in  all  your  occa- 
sional intercourse  with  its  inhabitants,  you  mani- 
fest all  the  decorum  and  delicacy  of  young  gentle- 
men, who  have  too  much  self-respect  to  violate  the 
feelings  of  others;  and  too  nuich  regard  to  what  is 
due  to  every  fellow  creature  to  allow  of  your  in- 
dulging caprice,  or  selfishness,  or  ill-humour,  at 
their  expense.  When  you  pass  either  boys  or 
adults  in  the  street,  let  no  indication  of  either  con- 
tempt or  hostile  feeling  escape  you.  If  any  feeling 
of  that  kind  is  manifested  on  their  part,  do  not  per- 
mit yourselves,  in  ordinary  circumstances,  to  under- 
stand or  to  notice  it.  Instead  of  its  being  manly  to 
resent,  or  to  chastise  the  petty  insolence  of  such 
people,  it  is  rather  the  part  of  wayward  children, 
who,  by  such  conduct,  expose  their  own  weakness 
and  ignorance  of  the  world,  rather  than  the  ill  con- 
duct of  others.  I  have  never  known  a  fracas  to 
occur,  as  it  is  commonly  expressed,  between  col- 
lege students  and  town-boys,  however  ill  the  latter 
may  have   behaved,  without  finding  occasion  to 


5B  '  MANNERS, 

throw  nine-tenths  of  the  blame  on  the  former. 
Young  men  of  cuUivated  minds  and  poHshed  habits 
ought  to  have  too  much  discernment,  and  too  much 
consideration,  to  plunge  headlong  into  a  conflict 
from  which  neither  credit  nor  profit  can  possibly  be 
derived;  from  which,  even  if  they  are  victorious, 
nothing  but  disgrace  can  result.  What  though 
lovvn-boys  adopt  the  opinion,  that  the  students  of 
college  are  unwiUing  to  fight  with  them?  What 
though  they  think  and  say,  that  they  are  either  too 
proud  or  too  cowardly  to  enter  the  lists  with  them? 
What  harm  can  such  imputations  do  you?  Is  it 
not  better  to  bear  them  in  silence,  when  it  is  evi- 
dent that  your  character  cannot  be  materially 
affected  by  them,  than  to  engage  in  a  contest  of  fisti- 
cuffs with  those  who  are  reckless  of  consequences; 
to  be  rolled  in  the  dust;  to  have  your  garments  torn 
from  your  backs;  and  to  retire  from  the  contest 
with  black  eyes,  and  bloody  noses,  and  perhaps  the 
loss  of  limb,  or  even  life  to  some;  and  after  all  with 
the  miserable  consolation  that  you  have  finally 
gained  a  victory  from  which  no  honour  can  pos- 
sibly be  derived,  but,  on  the  contrary,  it  may  be, 
many  a  painful  memorial  lasting  as  life. 

If  you  desire  wholly  to  avoid  such  dishonourable 
conflicts,  you  must  carefully  avoid  every  thing 
which  can  possibly  lead  to  them.  "  The  prudent 
man,"  says  Solomon,  "foreseeth  the  evil  and  hidetli 
himself,  but  the  simple  pass  on  and  are  punished." 


MANNERS. 


59 


A  very  small  amount  of  discretion  will  be  sufficient 
to  put  you  on  your  guard  against  all  those  modes 
of  treating  the  people  of  the  town,  whether  young 
or  old,  which  will  be  apt  to  draw  upon  you  their 
dislike,  or  excite  them  to  particular  acts  of  personal 
disrespect  or  violence.     Whether  you  enter   the 
store  of  the  merchant,  the  shop  of  the  mechanic,  or 
the  hotel  of  the  publican;  whether  you  encounter 
the  townsman  in  the  social  circle,  or  his  children  or 
apprentices  in  the  street,  let  nothing  approaching 
to  the  offensive  escape  you  toward  any  of  them. 
If  any  mechanic  should  either  do  your  work  badly, 
or  overreach  you  in  his  charges,  or  in  any  way  treat 
you  ill,  I  hope  you  will  never  think  of  quarrelling 
with  him,  or  assailing  him  with  abusive  language; 
but  simply  of  withdrawing  from  him,  and  never 
again  putting  yourselves  in  his  power.     And  so  if 
any  word  or  look  or  gesture  of  insolent  character 
should  be  shown  by  any  of  the  townspeople,  young 
or  old,  do  not  appear  to  notice  it.     Turn  away,  and 
try  to  avoid  coming  in  contact  with  them  again. 
Reject  with  scorn,  as  a  dictate  at  once  of  sin  and 
folly,  the  maxim  so  often  in  the  mouth  of  youthful 
inexperience— "that  it  is  dastardly  to  take  an  un- 
civil word  or  look  from  any  one  without  resenting 
it."     He  who  acts  upon  this  maxim  may  always 
expect  to  have  a  sufficient  number  of  quarrels  and 
broils  on  his  hands;  and,  in  fact,  to  be  at  the  mercy 


60  MANNERS. 

of  every  ruffian  who  wishes  to  jnvolve  him  in  a  dis- 
reputable conflict. 

I  have  sometimes  seen  young  men  in  "  Nassau 
Hall,"  whose  manners  in  all  the  respects  which  I 
have  mentioned,  were  worthy  of  being  regarded  as 
a  model  for  your  imitation.  I  wish  it  were  in  my 
power  to  hold  them  up  to  your  view  with  all  the 
bright  and  graphic  clearness  with  which  their  per- 
sonal deportment  was  invested.  I  will  try  to  set 
before  you  the  example  of  one  of  their  number, 
which  will  never  be  effaced  from  my  memory,  and 
which  I  could  wish  might  be  indelibly  impressed 
upon  yours. 

The  youth  to  whom  I  refer  was  the  son  of  re- 
spectable parents,  in  very  moderate  and  indeed 
rather  straitened  circumstances.  He  was,  of  course, 
altogether  unable  to  indulge  in  large  expenditures, 
and  was  obliged  to  exercise  the  strictest  economy 
in  dress,  and  in  all  his  habits.  He  was  not  at  all 
distinguished  as  a  genius;  but  he  had  a  good  mind; 
was  indefatigably  diligent  in  study;  was  a  good 
scholar,  and  maintained  an  honourable  standing  in 
his  class.  But  his  deportment  as  a  member  of  the 
college,  was  above  all  praise.  Though  he  was  no 
way  related  to  me,  yet  I  had  much  opportunity  of 
being  acquainted  with  his  character  and  course. 
And  I  never  heard  of  his  infringing  the  smallest  law 
of  the  institution,  or  incurring  the  remotest  frown 
from  any  member  of  the  faculty.     Whether  in  the 


MANNERS.  61 

lecture-room  or  the  prayer-hall,  in  the  refectory  or 
the  campus,  his  manners  were  those  o(  the  perfect 
gentleman.     He  was  no   talebearer.     He  was  no 
supercilious  censor.     The  strictest  integrity,  delica- 
cy and  honour  were  manifest  in  all  his  intercourse. 
The  law  of  kindness  and  of  respectfulness  ever 
dwelt  upon  his  tongue,  and  marked  all  his  deport- 
ment.    A  profane  or  uncivil  word,  during  the  whole 
three  years  that  he  spent  in  Princeton,  was,  proba- 
bly, never  heard  to  escape  from  his  lips.    All  his  fel- 
low students  loved  him;  for  I  doubt  whether,  in  his 
treatment  of  any  one  of  them,  he  ever  departed  from 
the  most  perfect  urbanity.     He  was  never  heard  to 
call  any  of  ihem  by  an  offensive  nick-name.     He 
never  allowed  himself  to  refer  to  events  or  circum- 
stances adapted  to  give  any  one  pain.     His  deport- 
ment toward  the  very  servants  of  the  college,  was 
always  such  as  to  conciliate  their  respect,  and  even 
their  affection.     He   was  at  the  greatest  remove 
from  being  chargeable  with  smiling  on  vice;  and 
yet  his  opposition  to  it  was  maintained,  rather  by 
standing  aloof  from  the  vicious,  and  refraining  from 
all  fellowship  with  the  works  of  darkness,  than  by 
positive   reproof,  or   acrimonious  censure.     Even 
those  whose  company  he  avoided  never  complained 
of  his  deportment  as  uncivil.     It  was  marked  by 
no  offensive  demeanour,  but  by  me?'e  abstinence 
from  their   society.     The  very  worst  of  his  fellow 
students  respected  him,  and  "  had  no  evil  thing  to 
6 


62  MANNERS. 

say  of  him;"  and  when  engaged  in  schemes  of  mis- 
chief, were  ahnost  as  anxious  to  conceal  them  from 
him  as  from  the  members  of  the  faculty.  It  is 
hardly  necessary  to  add,  that  during  his  whole 
course  in  the  institution,  he  was  never  once  involv- 
ed in  a  scrape  or  quarrel  with  an  associate,  or  gave 
any  one  even  a  pretext  for  assailing  him. 

When  this  exemplary  young  man  moved  about 
among  the  people  of  the  town,  the  same  inoffensive 
and  perfectly  popular  manners  marked  all  his  con- 
duct. His  treatment  of  every  mechanic  whom  he 
employed;  of  every  servant  who  waited  on  him,  or 
accosted  him;  of  every  child  in  the  street  was  ever 
so  distinguished  by  kindness  and  affability,  that  he 
was  a  favourite  among  them  all.  He  was  so  far 
from  ever  involving  himself  in  broils  or  disputes 
with  the  rudest  of  their  number,  that  his  approach 
seemed  to  be  greeted  with  pleasure  wherever  he 
went.  When  he  came  to  be  graduated,  his  place 
on  the  list  of  honours  was  quite  as  high  as  he  de- 
served, because  every  body  loved  and  delighted  to 
do  him  honour.  And  when  he  returned  to  the  vil- 
lage, from  time  to  time,  for  a  number  oT  years  after 
he  had  left  it,  he  was  hailed  by  all,  from  the  highest 
to  the  lowest,  as  a  respected  friend. 

If  I  could  cherish  the  hope,  my  dear  sons,  that 
you  would  walk  in  the  steps  of  this  admirable 
youth,  and  leave  the  institution  with  which  it  is 
your  privilege  to  be  connected,  with  a  character 


MANNERS.  63 

like  his,  my  highest  wishes,  as  to  this  point,  would 
be  gratified.  And  why  may  you  not?  Are  you 
not  sensible  that  the  manners  which  I  have  de- 
scribed are  precisely  those  which  would  carry  you 
through  life  with  popularity  and  honour?  And  do 
you  not  know  that,  if  you  wish  to  attain  such  man- 
ners, you  cannot  begin  too  early  to  cultivate  them; 
and  that  those  which  you  carry  with  you  from  col- 
lege will  be  apt  to  follow  you  through  life? 

I  have  as  yet  said  nothing  of  the  use  of  profane 
language  in  common  conversation,  as  belonging  to 
the  subject  of  manners.  As  you  have  been  taught, 
from  your  childhood,  to  abhor  the  language  of  pro- 
faneness,  as  a  sin  against  God,  I  trust  there  is  no 
need  of  my  enlarging  on  this  point.  But  I  wish 
you  to  remember  that,  independently  of  the  offence 
against  the  majesty  of  heaven,  which  ought  to  be 
and  will  be  decisive  with  every  mind  not  thorough- 
ly impious,  the  use  of  such  language  is  as  gross  an 
oflfence  against  good  breeding  as  it  is  against  the 
law  of  God.  There  is  no  principle  of  good  manners 
more  self-evident,  or  more  generally  admitted  than 
this,  that  in  social  intercourse  we  ought  to  avoid 
every  thing  adapted  to  give  pain  to  those  with 
whom  we  converse.  Now,  can  it  be  doubted  that 
there  are  many — very  many  with  whom  we  are 
called  daily  to  converse,  who  are  sincerely  grieved, 
nay,  offended  when  they  hear  "  the  name  of  God 
taken  in  vain,"  or  any  form  of  profane  speech  in- 


64  MANNERS. 

dulged  in  their  presence?  Their  sense  of  propriety 
is  outraged,  and  their  moral  feelings  painfully  in- 
vaded by  every  expression  of  this  nature.  Is  it  the 
part  of  a  gentleman  to  allow  himself  to  do  this?  I 
apprehend  that  every  man  of  common  sense  and 
common  decency  will  emphatically  say,  no.  And 
yet  how  strange  is  it  that  many  who  would  be  as- 
tonished and  offended  to  hear  their  claim  to  the 
character  of  gentlemen  called  in  question,  at  the 
same  time,  do  not  scruple  every  day  to  wound  the 
feelings  of  those  with  whom  they  converse  with 
language,  which,  if  it  be  not  grossly  blasphemous, 
is  such  as  is  adapted  to  give  pain  to  the  pious,  if  not 
to  the  decently  moral  hearer. 

If  these  sentiments  be  just,  what  shall  be  said  of 
that  young  man  who,  when  he  sees  a  clergyman, 
or  other  well  known  professor  of  religion,  approach- 
ing him,  within  a  few  feet,  or  immediately  after 
having  passed  him  a  similar  distance,  is  heard  to 
blurt  out  as  loudly  as  to  insure  its  being  audible 
the  most  profane  or  otherwise  indecent  language? 
This  is  not  merely  impious;  it  is  brutal,  and  those 
who  can  be  guilty  of  it,  ought  to  be  abhorred  as 
well  as  despised. 

The  practice  which  I  have  sometimes  known  to 
be  indulged  in  colleges  of  turning  particular  stu- 
dents into  ridicule,  by  repeating  disrespectful  nick- 
names, or  by  satirizing  certain  peculiarities  or  cha- 
racteristics, is  certainly  an  infringment  of  those  good 


MANNERS.  65 

manners  which  ought  to  be  cultivated  in  every 
hterary  institution.  Suppose  a  gentleman  in  com- 
mon life  were  called  upon  to  be  frequently  in  the 
company  of  a  respectable  Jew,  or  a  person  who  had 
lost  an  eye,  or  who,  on  account  of  lameness,  moved 
about  on  crutches,  what  would  be  thought  of  him 
if  he  were  continually  to  address  these  persons  re- 
spectively by  nicknames  reminding  each  of  his 
peculiarity?  Suppose  he  were  always  to  call  the 
first,  whenever  he  spoke  to  him,  "■  Israelite;"  the 
second,  "Blinkard;"  and  the  third,  "Crutch" — 
would  he  be  considered  as  a  man  of  good  manners? 
Yet  an  offence  against  good  maimers  in  this  respect 
is  one  of  the  most  common  faults  in  all  the  colleges 
I  have  ever  known.  I  once  knew  a  respectable 
and  promising  young  Jew  who  entered  one  of  our 
colleges.  His  talents  were  good,  his  temper  amia- 
ble, and  his  maimers  of  the  most  inoifensive  kind. 
Yet  he  was  so  continually  twitted  by  a  few — I  am 
happy  to  say  it  was  by  a  very  few,  of  the  coarse 
vulgar  young  men  around  him — by  referring  to  his 
circumcision — by  offering  him  pork,  and  by  a 
variety  of  similar  forms  of  ridicule,  that  the  resi- 
dence of  a  few  weeks  convinced  him  that  he  could 
not  longer  remain  with  comfort  a  member  of  the 
institution.  He  was  withdrawn;  and  was  prevented 
from  ever  passing  through  any  college.  How  dis- 
graceful as  well  as  injurious  is  such  conduct  on  the 
part  of  young  men,  estimating  the  value  of  and  seek- 
er 


66  MANNERS. 

ing  to  obtain  a  liberal  education,  and  claiming  the 
character  of  gentlemen! 

And  must  all  the  principles  of  decorum  and 
delicacy  be  set  aside  for  the  sake  of  giving  leave  to 
coarse  young  men,  whenever  an  unfortunate  com- 
panion approaches  them,  to  remind  him  of  his  in- 
firmity by  a  ludicrous  or  contemptuous  nickname? 
It  would  be  outrageous  in  the  walks  of  decent  life 
to  address  an  acquaintance  as  "  Mr.  Clubfoot," — 
"  Mr.  Squintum,"  "  Mr.  Humpback,"  or  one  re- 
markably thin,  "Mr.  Barebones."  Ought  it  to  be 
deemed  otherwise  in  college  life,  where  decorum 
and  refinement  ought  to  hold  a  sacred  reign? 

My  dear  sons,  there  is  more,  after  all,  in  the  effi- 
cacy of  manners  than  I  can  tell  you  in  one  short 
letter.  If  it  be  true,  as  has  been  sometimes  said, 
that  "a  good  face  is  an  open  letter  of  recommenda- 
tion," it  is  equally  true  that  there  is  a  magic  in 
pleasant  manners  which  scarcely  any  thing  can 
resist.  They  can  cover  a  multitude  of  defects;  and 
they  have  a  thousand  times  done  more  for  men 
than  all  their  substantial  qualities  put  together. 
The  youth  who  undervalues  or  neglects  them, 
whatever  other  advantages  he  may  possess,  is  un- 
der a  miserable  delusion. 

I  have  dwelt  so  long  on  this  subject  that  I  fear 
you  will  begin  to  think  it  an  intricate  one,  and 
imagine  that  tolerable  skill  in  this  matter  will  be 
of  difficult  attainment.     If  this  be  the  case  you 


MANNERS.  67 

greatly  mistake.  I  grant,  indeed,  that  the  conven- 
tional habits  of  courtly  society  are  not  to  be  ac- 
quired at  once  by  the  inexperiehced  youth.  Much 
intercourse  with  the  poUte  world  and  close  obser- 
vation are  indispensable  to  familiarity  and  skill  in 
these  matters.  But  the  cultivation  and  attainment 
of  those  manners  for  which  I  now  plead  is  a  sim- 
ple and  easy  thing.  Let  the  most  youthful  stu- 
dent who  can  be  expected  to  be  found  within  the 
walls  of  a  college,  only  possess  good  sense,  true 
benevolence,  and,  of  course,  an  unwillingness  to 
give  pain  to  any  one,  and  a  sincere  desire  to  make 
all  around  him  happy;  let  him  be  affable,  good- 
tempered,  and  desirous  of  pleasing  all  around  him. 
Suppose  him  to  possess  these  simple  elements  of 
moral  character,  and  nothing  more  will  be  neces- 
sary to  make  him  an  inotfensive  and  pleasant  com- 
panion in  a  literary  institution,  or  in  any  part  of 
the  world. 


68 


LETTER    IV. 

MORALS. 

Qui  proficit  in  Uteris,  et  deficit  in  tnoribus,  non  profieit,  sed  de- 
ficit." Oecolampadius. 

"The  excesses  of  our  youth  arc  drafts  upon  our  old  ag^e,  pay- 
able, with  interest,  about  thirty  years  after  date."     Lacon  I.  76. 

Mr  Dear  Sons, 

The  disposition  to  prefer  intellectual  to  moral 
reputation  is  deplorably  prevalent  in  seminaries  of 
learning.  Many  an  ambitious  youth,  if  he  could 
establish  a  character  for  distinguished  genius  and 
scholarship,  would  be  quite  content  to  lie  under 
the  imputation  of  moral  delinquency.  Or,  at  least, 
if  he  mtist  be  defective  in  either,  he  would  de- 
cisively choose  that  it  should  be  in  regard  to 
moral  purity.  I  need  not  say,  that  this  preference 
is  an  instance  of  deplorable  infatuation.  It  is  as 
much  opposed  to  common  sense  as  it  is  to  the  word 
of  God.  And  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that 
the  minds  of  youth  be  early  imbued  with  senti- 
ments adapted  to  its  correction. 

I  am  aware  that  many  sober  thinkers  are  op- 


MORALS.  69 

posed  to  the  consideration  of  this  subject  apart 
from  religion.  They  insist  that  what  is  called 
moral  philosophy  is  a  mere  system  of  refined  infi- 
delity; that  pare  morals  cannot  be  hoped  for,  and 
ought  not  to  be  inculcated,  apart  from  pure,  evan- 
gelical religion;  and  that  all  attempts  to  promote 
them  on  any  other  principles  is  an  attempt  to 
"  gather  grapes  of  thorns  and  figs  of  thistles."  I 
am  by  no  means  able  to  concur  in  this  opinion, 
especially  in  all  its  extent.  I  acknowledge,  indeed, 
that  the  Bible  is  the  only  infallible  and  perfectly 
pure  teacher  of  morals.  I  acknowledge,  too,  that 
nothing  can  be  relied  on  either  for  the  attainment 
or  the  maintenance  of  sound  morality,  but  the  reli- 
gion of  Jesus  Christ,  sincerely  believed  and  em- 
braced as  a  practical  system.  He  who  expects 
strict  moral  principle  to  hold  a  consistent  and 
steady  reign  in  the  heart  of  any  man  who  is  not  a 
real  Christian,  will  infallibly  be  disappointed.  Yet 
I  should  not  be  willing  to  say,  that  duty  ought  in 
no  case  to  be  inculcated  by  any  other  arguments 
than  those  drawn  from  the  gospel.  I  should  more 
than  hesitate  to  assert,  that  lying,  and  theft,  and 
fraud,  and  drunkenness, and  impurity, and  gambling 
ought  never  to  be  prohibited  by  reasonings  which 
the  infidel  might  not  be  made  to  feel,  as  well  as  the 
Christian.  These  sins,  indeed,  ought  always  to  be 
denounced  as  forbidden  in  the  word  of  God;  as 
objects  of  his  righteous  displeasure;  as  contrary  to 


70  MORALS. 

the  spirit  and  will  of  Christ;  and  as  wholly  incon- 
sistent with  the  Christian  character.  But  may 
they  not — ought  they  not  to  be  made  to  appear 
vile  and  hateful  even  in  the  eyes  of  the  sceptic  and 
atheist?  Is  it  wrong  to  tell  men  that  there  are 
crimes  against  the  community,  as  well  as  against 
God;  that  the  practice  of  them  is  unreasonable, 
injurious  to  all  the  interests  of  the  individual  and 
of  society,  unfriendly  to  health,  to  peace  of  mind, 
to  the  principles  of  justice,  benevolence  and  truth; 
in  short,  to  hold  up  to  view  their  mischievous  and 
odious  character  by  representations,  which  the 
rejector  of  revelation,  no  less  than  the  professed 
believer,  will  see  to  be  conclusive?  The  moral  phi- 
losopher may,  indeed,  be  an  infidel.  When  he  is  so, 
it  is  to  be  deplored.  He  is  shorn  of  a  large  part  of 
his  strength.  Still  he  has  a  number  of  weapons  left, 
which  are  not  without  their  value,  and  their  con- 
vincing power,  even  to  a  brother  in  unbelief.  He 
may,  with  great  propriety,  tell  those  who  listen  to 
him,  that  the  crimes  above  specified  are  hurtful  to 
himself,  to  his  intellect,  to  his  physical  frame,  to  his 
reputation,  to  his  influence  in  society,  to  his  chil- 
dren, to  the  community  at  large.  This  is  moral  phi- 
losophy. Its  best  armoury,  no  doubt,  is  the  Bible; 
but,  at  the  same  time,  it  is  not  without  weapons 
which  those  who  reject  the  Bible  may  feel  and  be 
benefited  by. 

The  object  of  this  letter,  my  dear  sons,  is  to  con- 


MORALS.  71 

vince  you  that  good  morals  are  indispensable  to  the 
safety,  health,  happiness,  and  true  welfare  of  all,  in 
every  walk  of  life;  and,  therefore,  that  those  who 
are  preparmg  to  live  by  the  acquirement  of  an  edu- 
cation, and  by  professional  character,  ought  to 
make  their  moral  culture  an  object  of  primary  and 
unceasing  attention.  A  man  without  genius,  with- 
out eminent  talents,  may  be  both  useful  and  hap- 
py. With  barely  decent  powers  of  mind,  if  he  be 
honest,  sober,  industrious,  and  prudent,  he  may  be 
beloved,  respected  and  highly  useful,  may  "  serve 
his  generation  by  the  will  of  God,"  and  leave 
a  name  behind  him  of  unspeakably  more  value 
than  great  riches.  But  however  transcendent  his 
talents,  if  he  be  a  liar,  intemperate,  dishonest,  or 
licentious,  he  will,  of  course,  be  despised  by  the 
wise  and  the  good,  and  no  degree  of  patronage 
can  give  him  an  honourable  standing  in  society. 
In  fact,  no  one  without  a  fair  moral  character  can 
hope  to  rise  in  the  world;  and  the  more  firm  and 
fixed  that  character  the  more  precious  a  treasure  it 
will  be  found,  whatever  may  be  our  lot  in  life. 

Need  I  tell  you,  for  example  how  fatal  intempe- 
rance is  to  the  body,  to  the  mind,  to  reputation,  to 
all  professional  respectability  and  success?  Need  I 
attempt  to  set  before  you  the  melancholy  picture, 
so  often  presented  to  the  public  view,  of  talents 
degraded,  of  health  undermined  and  ruined,  of  pro- 
perty squandered,  of  families   prostrated  by  this 


72  MORALS. 

fell  destroyer?  Who  that  has  seen  so  many  of  the 
deplorable  triumphs  of  strong  drink  over  all  the 
best  interests  of  man  for  time  and  eternity,  can  hold 
his  peace,  or  forbear  to  proclaim  to  every  young 
man,  "Fly, — 0  fly  from  this  arch-foe  to  human 
happiness!  Let  nothing  tempt  you  to  touch  or 
taste  the  fatal  cup.  There  is  death  in  it.  Your 
only  safety  is  in  total  abstinence  from  the  stimulus 
of  strong  drink  in  every  form.  If  you  allow  your- 
self to  taste  it  at  all,  there  is  too  much  reason  to 
fear  that  it  will  become  your  master,  and  prove 
your  ruin."  When  I  hear  of  a  young  man  that  he 
has  a  fondness  for  strong  drink,  and  has  been  seen 
under  the  power  of  intoxication,  I  instinctively  give 
him  up  as  lost,  and  abandon  all  hope  of  ever  seeing 
him  eifher  respectable  or  useful.  There  is  no  sin 
which  more  directly  tends  to  secure  its  own  con- 
tinuance and  increase,  or  which  more  infallibly 
produces  the  wreck  of  all  hiunan  prosperity. 
What  though  the  deluded  youth  intends  only  to 
indulge  to  a  small  extent,  and  to  avoid  habitual 
excess?  What  though  he  abhors  the  character  of 
the  drunkard,  and  is  firmly  determined  to  stop  long 
before  he  reaches  the  drunkard's  dishonour?  Does 
he  not  know  that  there  is  not  the  least  reason  to 
rely  upon  his  own  resolution,  however  sincere  at 
the  time,  and  that  he  who  parleys  with  the  tempter 
is  probably  lost. 

No  less  fatal  to  the  true  honour  and  happiness  of 


MORALS.  73 

a  young  man  is  the  want  of  integrity.  What 
though  he  had  all  the  talents  and  all  the  scho- 
larship that  ever  fell  to  the  lot  of  a  mortal?  Yet  if 
he  were  known  to  be  regardless  of  truth,  to  be  desti- 
tute of  honesty  and  honour  in  the  intercourse  of 
society, — who  would  respect  him?  who  could  avoid 
instinctively  despising  him?  Who  would  think  of 
employing  or  trusting  him  in  matters  of  weight  and 
importance?  Even  the  worst  of  his  classmates 
would  turn  away  from  him  with  contempt  and  ab- 
horrence, as  unworthy  of  confidence  in  any  thing. 
And  in  regard  to  his  future  profession  and  prospects 
what  could  be  more  hopeless?  It  cannot  be  sup- 
posed that  such  a  young  man  would  seek  the  office  of 
a  minister  of  the  gospel;  from  that  the  common  con- 
sent of  all  would,  of  course,  exclude  him.  But 
what  other  profession  could  he  safely  or  honour- 
ably fill?  None.  In  none  could  he  obtain  public 
esteem.  In  none  could  he  succeed  either  as  to 
emolument  or  confidence.  A  sort  of  honour  even 
among  thieves  is  indispensable  to  that  standing 
with  his  comrades  which  even  the  occupant  of 
such  a  wretched  position  desires  to  maintain. 

Nothing  is  more  directly  adapted  to  secure  to 
any  young  man  the  highest  respect  and  honour 
among  his  companions,  than  an  established  charac- 
ter for  invincible  veracity;  a  reputation  for  integ- 
rity, honour,  and  faithfulness  which  nothing  can 
shake,  nothing  assail.  I  have  known  students  by 
7 


74  MORALS. 

no  means  remarkable  for  either  talents  or  scholar- 
ship, who,  on  account  of  these  qualities,  enjoyed 
the  esteem  and  confidence  of  their  fellows  to  a  most 
enviable  degree;  who  were  always  selected  where 
delicate  and  confidential  services  were  to  be  per- 
formed; and  who  were  remembered  to  the  close  of 
life  for  this  proverbial  candour  and  truth.  My 
dear  sons,  let  me  have  the  pleasure  of  knowing 
that  you  sustain  such  a  character  among  your 
classmates  and  companions;  that  the  mention  of 
your  name  is  a  pledge,  with  all  who  know  you, 
that  you  would  rather  die  than  be  found  guilty  of 
prevarication  or  falsehood  in  the  minutest  matter. 

The  same  deplorable  results  must  ensue  to  that 
youth  who  allows  himself  in  college  to  imbibe  the 
spirit  and  form  the  habits  of  a  gambler.  The 
foundation  of  this  vice  is  often  laid  within  the  col- 
lege walls;  and  1  need  not  say  that  there  is  scarcely 
any  vice  more  directly  adapted  to  "take  away  the 
heart,"  to  fascinate  the  mind,  to  engross  the  atten- 
tion, and  to  destroy  him  who  yields  to  it,  for  both 
worlds.  Like  many  other  vices  it  begins  on  a  small 
scale.  The  youthful  votary  never  dreams  in  the 
outset,  of  going  far,  or  adventuring  much.  But  the 
fascination  and  the  fever  gradually  gain  upon  him. 
From  one  step  to  another  he  is  led  on,  until  ruin, 
despair  and  perhaps  suicide  close  his  career. 

Further;  the  use  of  profane  language  may  be 
numbered  among  those  immoral  practices  which 


MORALS.  75 

disgrace  literary  institutions,  and  exert  a  mischie- 
vous influence  wherever  indulged.  God  has  for- 
bidden us  to  take  his  holy  name  in  vain,  and  has 
declared  that  He  "will  not  hold  him  guiltless"  who 
violates  this  command.  Now  we  may  be  always 
said  to  take  the  name  of  God  in  vain  when  we 
pronounce  it  in  a  light  and  irreverent  manner,  and, 
above  all,  when  profane  oaths  and  imprecations, 
and  the  language  of  blasphemy,  escape  our  lips. 
This  sin  is  invested  with  so  many  hateful  charac- 
teristics that  it  is  truly  wonderful  that  any  one  who 
lays  claim  to  culture  or  decency  should  ever  be 
heard  to  indulge  it.  It  marks  a  spirit  of  high- 
handed impiety.  It  tends  to  excite  and  encourage 
a  similar  spirit  in  others.  It  is  deeply  offensive 
and  grievous  to  all  who  fear  God,  and  reverence 
his  word;  and  is,  of  course,  a  species  of  ill  manners 
of  the  most  vulgar  character,  of  which  every  one 
who  professes  to  be  a  gentleman  ought  to  be 
deeply  ashamed.  Surely  such  language  ought  to 
be  left  to  those  who  not  only  despise  God  and  his 
law,  but  who  also  set  at  naught  all  that  decorum 
which  marks  the  intercourse  of  the  well  educated 
and  polished  portion  of  the  community. 

I  shall  only  notice  particularly  one  more  vice, 
which  has  been  the  source  of  more  injury  and  degra- 
dation to  promising  young  men,  than  any  statements 
or  estimate  of  mine  can  adequately  portray.  I 
mean  the  licentiousness  of  the  libertine  in 


76  MORALS. 

regard  to  the  other  sex.  It  is  not  easy  to  speak  of 
this  subject  without  such  an  offence  against  deli- 
cacy as  is  revoking  to  virtuous  minds.  Still  truth 
must  be  stated,  and  warning  given  to  those  who 
have  not  closed  their  ears  against  all  the  dictates  of 
wisdom.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  illicit  inter- 
course of  the  sexes  is  the  source  of  immeasurable 
misery,  shame  and  ruin;  not  merely  to  females, 
destroyed  by  seducers,  but  also  to  the  seducers 
themselves  and  to  all  who  are  involved  in  their 
destiny.  However  lightly  this  sin  may  be  con- 
sidered by  the  licentious,  unprincipled  young  man, 
there  is,  perhaps,  no  sin  connected  with  more  mul- 
tiform and  deplorable  evils.  It  is  not  only  a  viola- 
tion of  the  holy  law  of  God,  which  denounces 
against  it  his  wrath  and  curse;  but  it  is  productive 
of  countless  miseries  in  the  present  life  of  the  most 
awful  kind.  It  pollutes  the  mind.  It  hardens  the 
heart.  It  corrupts  the  whole  moral  character.  It 
inflicts  on  society  heavy  and  complicated  injuries. 
It  destroys  the  peace  of  families.  It  entails  infamy 
and  misery  on  posterity.  I  have  known  a  num- 
ber of  young  men,  otherwise  of  high  promise,  who 
by  a  single  unhallowed  connection  of  this  kind 
have  drawn  a  dark  cloud  over  all  their  subsequent 
course;  have  found  themselves  embarrassed  and 
depressed  at  every  attempt  to  gain  a  respectable 
place  in  society;  entirely  cut  off  from  the  associa- 
tions and  the  honours  which  they  might  otherwise 


MORALS.  77 

have  gained;  and  avoided  by  all  decent  people  — 
and  especially  by  those  who  have  regular  and 
orderly  families,  as  persons  whose  touch  is  pollu- 
tion. 

I  would  say,  then,  to  you,  my  sons,  and  to  every 
youth  in  whom  I  felt  a  special  interest — Turn 
away  from  this  sin,  and  from  every  thing  which 
leads  to  it,  as  you  would  from  a  cup  of  poison,  or 
from  the  assassin's  dagger.  If  you  desire  to  avoid 
becoming  its  victims,  never  allow  yourselves  to 
parley  with,  but  fly  from  it.  Here  he  who  delibe- 
rates is  lost.  One  transgression,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  drunkard's  cup,  may  lead  to  another  and  an- 
other, until  the  chains  of  iniquity  are  riveted  around 
you,  and  the  destruction  of  your  character  and  of 
all  your  prospects  in  life  is  for  ever  sealed.  If  you 
wish  to  avoid  the  entanglements  and  disgrace 
which  have  entailed  infamy  and  misery  on  thou- 
sands; if  you  would  preserve  a  character  unspotted, 
and  do  nothing  to  interfere  with  ^'•our  enjoyment 
of  that  pure  and  happy  conjugal  connection,  which 
it  ought  to  be  the  desire  and  the  sacred  ambition 
of  every  young  man  to  form,  as  one  of  the  noblest 
institutions  of  heaven,  and,  like  the  sabbath  and 
the  gospel,  adapted  to  shed  countless  blessings  on 
individuals  and  the  world; — then  keep  yourselves 
pure  from  this  sin,  and  sacredly  avoid  every  thing 
which  may  serve  as  an  incentive  to  so  great  an 
evil. 

7* 


7S  MORALS. 

But  I  will  not  multiply  particulars  further.  I 
hope  you  are  convinced,  my  dear  sons,  that  every 
form  of  inniiorality  is  as  unfriendly  to  your  tem- 
poral success  in  life,  as  it  is  offensive  in  the  eyes  of 
a  holy  God,  and  adapted  to  draw  down  his  judg- 
ments upon  you.  "  The  way  of  transgressors  is 
indeed  hard."  Misery  and  shame  are  its  native 
and  necessary  consequences.  You  may  hope  by 
the  force  of  your  talents,  and  by  the  fame  of  your 
scholarship,  to  obviate  these  consequences.  But 
this  is  "fighting  against  God."  If  you  indulge  in 
any  form  of  immorality,  it  would  require  a  con- 
stant course  of  miracles  to  save  you  from  the  tem- 
poral as  well  as  eternal  penalty  which  a  holy  God 
has  annexed  to  the  transgression  of  his  law.  And 
remember,  I  entreat  you,  two  things  which  are 
worthy  of  your  serious  consideration  in  regard  to 
immoral  practices. 

The  first  is  that  the  young  are  peculiarly  ex- 
posed to  these  criminal  and  mischievous  indul- 
gences. Their  passions  are  strong;  their  experience 
is  small;  their  moral  principles  are  too  often  weak 
and  wavering;  their  feelings  are  sanguine  and 
buoyant;  their  self-confidence  is  great;  and  they 
are  frequently  led  on  by  the  social  principle  to 
practices  which,  however  manifestly  perilous,  have 
never  been  duly  considered.  0  how  often  are 
young  persons  led  "like  an  ox  to  the  slaughter,"  by 
evil  passions,  or  evil  companions,  or  both,  into  habits 


MORALS.  79 

from  which  they  apprehend  no  danger!  Our  cor- 
rupt hearts,  indeed,  are  apt,  at  all  ages,  to  triumph 
over  conscience  and  the  dictates  of  virtue;  but  in 
youth  many  of  the  safeguards  against  vice  which 
longer  experience  and  more  sedate  feelings  furnish, 
either  do  not  exist  at  all,  or  operate  much  more 
feebly.  0  if  a  young  man,  when  he  begins  to 
slide,  could  see,  as  his  older  friends  or  his  parents 
see,  the  yawning  gulf  on  the  brink  of  which  he 
stands,  and  the  awful  peril  to  which  he  is  exposed, 
he  would  be  thankful  to  any  one  who  should  in- 
terpose, and  with  a  friendly  hand  forcibly  pull  him 
away  from  the  precipice.  But  as  he  is  peculiarly 
exposed  to  danger,  so  it  is  hard  to  make  him  see  or 
feel  its  reality. 

The  second  consideration  worthy  of  your  serious 
regard  is,  that  as  youth  is  a  season  of  peculiar  ex- 
posure to  the  entanglements  of  immorality,  so  the 
immoral  habits  then  formed  are  peculiarly  apt  to 
establish  a  fatal  reign,  and  finally  and  totally  to 
destroy  their  unhappy  victims.  Habits  formed  in 
the  morning  of  life  are  apt  to  "  grow  with  the  growth 
and  strengthen  with  the  strength."  It  has  been 
remarked  by  sagacious  observers  of  human  nature, 
that  as  young  men,  from  the  ardour  of  their  feel- 
ings, and  their  love  of  excitement,  are  more  apt, 
for  example,  to  be  ensnared  by  strong  drink  than 
those  more  advanced  in  life;  so  tippling  habits 
formed   in   early  life  are   peculiarly  apt  to  gain 


80  MORALS. 

Strength,  to  take  a  firmer  and  more  morbid  hold  of 
the  physical  frame,  and  to  drag  their  victim  more 
powerfully  and  speedily  to  a  drunkard's  grave. 

The  same  general  remark  may  be  made  concern- 
ing almost  every  other  form  of  vice; — concerning 
departures  from  the  solemnity  of  truth,  the  indul- 
gence of  illicit  sexual  intercourse,  and  approaches 
to  the  gambler's  career.  He  who  is  enabled  to 
keep  himself  pure  from  these  sins  during  his  youth, 
has  gained  an  advantage  for  which  he  can  never 
be  sufficiently  thankful.  Every  successive  year 
that  this  happy  exemption  continues,  augments, 
under  God,  his  ground  of  confidence  and  hope. 
Now  is  the  time,  my  dear  sons,  if  you  wish  to  form 
habits  which  will  bear  reflection;  which  will  secure 
you  from  the  vices  which  are  daily  destroying 
thousands;  which  will  prepare  you,  by  the  blessing 
of  God,  for  a  useful  and  honoured  career;  and  for 
a  green  and  happy  old  age,  with  bodily  and  mental 
faculties  unimpaired  by  excess;  with  grateful  recol- 
lections of  the  past,  and  with  a  good  hope  through 
grace  for  the  future.  Guard  with  the  utmost  care, 
and  with  humble  unceasing  application  to  the  God 
of  all  grace  for  strength,  against  every  approach 
to  that  which  is  forbidden.  And  remember  that  in 
all  of  the  extent  of  the  expression  it  may  be  said, 
that  "the  ways  of  wisdom  are  ways  of  pleasant- 
ness, and  all  her  paths  peace." 


SI 


LETTER  V. 

RELIGION. 

Chose  admirable!  la  religion  Chretienne,  qui  ne  semble  avoir 
d'objet  que  la  felicite  de  I'autrc  vie,  fait  encore  n6tre  bonhcur  dans 
celle-ci.  Montesquieu. 

Mr  Dear  Sons, 

I  have  hitherto  addressed  you  on  subjects  so 
practically  and  immediately  important  in  college 
life;  so  universally  acknowledged  to  be  essential  to 
all  decorum  of  character,  and  all  respectability  of 
standing  in  decent  society,  that  you  will  not,  it  is 
presumed,  admit  for  a  moment  of  doubt  or  cavil  in 
regard  to  any  thing  which  has  been  advanced.  But 
I  must  now  request  your  attention  to  a  subject 
concerning  which  there  is  great  diversity  of  opin- 
ion, and  especially  of  feeling,  among  young  men. 
For  though  it  is,  incontrovertibly,  the  most  import- 
ant of  all  subjects  which  the  human  mind  can  con- 
template; yet  you  see  and  hear  enough  every  day 
to  know,  that  the  great  majority  of  those  around 
you,  of  all  ages,  and  especially  of  those  who  are 
borne  along  by  the  sanguine  hopes  and  the  ardent 


82  RELIGION. 

passions  of  youth,  have  no  disposition  to  make  Reli- 
gion even  an  object  of  serious  inquiry,  much  less  to 
submit  to  its  governing  power.  Yet  can  any  thing 
be  more  self-evident  than  that,  if  there  be  an  object 
within  the  range  of  human  study  more  worthy  of 
supreme  attention  than  all  others,  religion  is  that 
object?  Surely,  to  every  thinking  being,  the  exist- 
ence and  character  of  our  Almighty  Creator;  the 
relations  and  responsibility  which  we  bear  to  him; 
the  means  of  obtaining  his  favour;  the  immortality 
and  destiny  of  our  souls;  and  the  method  of  securing 
endless  blessedness,  when  all  the  possessions  and 
enjoyments  of  this  world  shall  have  passed  away — 
are  objects  of  regard  which  infinitely  transcend  all 
others  in  interest  and  importance.  How,  then, 
shall  we  account  for  the  undeniable  fact,  that  these 
great  objects,  though  confessedly  the  most  interest- 
ing that  can  be  presented  to  the  human  mind,  are 
precisely  those  which  educated,  intellectual  young 
men  are  more  apt  to  neglect  and  disregard  than 
all  others?  I  can  account  for  this  unquestionable 
and  distressing  fact,  only  by  recognising  as  assuredly 
true,  what  the  Bible  declares  concerning  our  fallen 
and  depraved  nature; — that  'Uhe  natural  (or  un- 
renewed) man  receiveth  not  the  things  of  the  spirit 
of  God,  neither  can  he  know  them,  because  they 
are  spiritually  descerned;" — that  "madness  is  in 
the  hearts  of  men  while  they  live,  and  after  that 
they  go  to  the  dead."     This  statement  solves  the 


RELIGION.  S3 

difficulty;  and  shows  us  why  it  is  that,  while  a 
great  majority,  even  of  the  young,  grant  in  wo7^ds 
that  piety  is  both  wisdom  and  happiness;  while  they 
confess  that  they  ought  to  be  pious;  and  while  so 
many  profess  to  lament  that  they  are  not  pious;  yet 
that  millions  with  these  confessions  on  their  lips, 
voluntarily  neglect  this  great  concern,  as  if  it  were 
known  to  be  the  veriest  fable.  Their  judgments 
are  in  favour  of  it.  Their  consciences  tell  them 
that  it  ought  not  to  be  neglected;  but  "  they  have 
no  heart  for  it;"  and  hence  they  go  on  from  day  to 
day  to  postpone  all  attention  to  it,  without  anxiety, 
and  without  regret. 

Allow  me  to  hope  that  my  beloved  sons, —  who 
have  been  dedicated  to  God  in  holy  baptism;  who 
have  lived,  from  their  infancy,  in  a  house  of  Bibles, 
and  of  prayer;  and  who  have  already  seen,  even 
in  the  few  years  they  have  lived,  so  many  of  the 
deplorable  fruits  of  impiety, — will  not  indulge  in 
this  infatuation;  or  rather  that  they  will  beg  of  the 
God  of  all  grace  to  enable  them  to  take  a  wiser 
course,  and,  like  one  commended  of  old,  to  "choose 
that  good  part  which  shall  not  be  taken  away  from 
them." 

But  where,  on  this  subject,  shall  I  begin?  That 
every  human  being  has  within  him  an  immortal 
spirit  which  will  survive  the  dissolution  of  the  body; 
that  there  is  a  God  who  made  us,  who  has  a  right 
to  our  services,  and  who  will  finally  be  our  judge; 


84  RELIGION. 

that  He  is  a  being  of  infinite  holiness,  who  cannot 
look  upon  sin  but  with  abhorrence:  and  that  with- 
out his  favour  we  can  never  be  happy — these  are 
first  principles  on  this  great  subject,  which,  it  is 
presumed  no  one  but  an  atheist  will,  for  a  moment, 
deny  or  question.  But  how  the  favour  of  this  great 
Being,  with  all  its  precious  results,  is  to  be  obtained, 
and  our  happiness  in  both  worlds  secured,  is  the 
grand  question  which  religion — the  religion  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  that  alone,  can  satisfactorily  answer. 

The  great  principle  with  which  we  are  to  begin, 
in  all  our  inquiries  on  this  subject,  is  that  we  are 
sinney\s;  that  we  need  pardon  for  our  offences,  and 
the  purification  of  our  depraved  nature.  No  expres- 
sions are  more  common  among  all  classes  of  men 
than  those  of  Saviour  and  salvation.  But  why  do 
we  need  a  Saviour,  \m\Qss  we  are  involved  in  guilt 
and  ruin  before  God?  Why  need  a  Redeemer  and 
redeniption,\[\\\ess  we  are  the  bond  slaves  of  sin  and 
Satan,  and  can  be  ransomed  only  by  an  Almighty 
Deliverer  paying  our  debt  to  the  justice  of  God, 
and  making  an  atonement  for  our  sins?  Accord- 
ingly the  word  of  God  teaches  us,  not  merely  that, 
if  we  go  on  to  forget  and  neglect  the  divine  law, 
we  are  in  danger  of  incurring  the  awful  displeasure 
of  our  Maker  and  Sovereign;  but  that  we  are  "con- 
demned already;"  that  we  are  by  nature  guilty 
and  polluted,  and  must  inevitably  perish  unless  we 
are  delivered  from  condemnation  and  depravity  by 


RELIGION.  85 

the  power  and  grace  of  the  Saviour.  The  whole 
strain  of  Scripture,  from  beginning  to  end,  repre- 
sents us  as  in  these  deplorable  circumstances. 
When  it  proclaims  that  Christ  came  "to  seek  and 
to  save  the  lost;"  when  it  tells  us  that  "the  whole 
have  no  need  of  a  physician,  but  they  who  are 
sick;"  when  it  calls  upon  all  the  children  of  men  in 
every  situation  of  life  to  "  repent  of  sin;"  and  when 
it  assures  us  that,  without  a  renovation  of  our  na- 
ture we  can  never  see  the  face  of  God  in  peace,  it 
is  evident  that  all  these  representations  conspire  to 
fasten  upon  us  the  charge  of  being  fallen  and  de- 
praved creatures,  in  need  of  deliverance  from  ruin. 
If  this  be  so,  surely  our  situation  is  most  serious, 
demanding  all  that  solemn  consideration  in  regard 
to  our  acceptance  with  God,  and  our  preparation 
for  meeting  Him,  which  the  holy  Scriptures  every- 
where call  upon  us  to  exercise. 

It  has  been  your  privilege,  my  dear  sons,  from 
your  childhood,  to  be  instructed  in  the  way  of  sal- 
vation by  Christ.  But  this  is  one  of  the  great  sub- 
jects in  regard  to  which  "line  upon  line,  and  pre- 
cept upon  precept"  are  found  needful.  You  will 
not,  therefore,  I  trust,  consider  it  as  superfluous  to 
have  your  attention  drawn  to  that  great  method  of 
mercy  which  the  word  of  God  styles  "glad  tidings 
of  great  joy  to  all  people."  And  I  hope,  too,  you 
will  not  forget  that  it  is  one  thing  to  contemplate 
and  acknowledge  this  method  of  mercy  as  a  mere 
8 


86  RELIGION. 

doctrinal  statement,  and  quite  another  to  receive  it 
with  gratitude  and  love,  and  make  it  the  guide  and 
joy  of  our  lives. 

The  following  statement  may  be  considered  as 
exhibiting  that  plan  of  acceptance  with  God,  and 
of  eternal  life,  with  which  you  have  been  familiar 
from  your  youth  up.  0  that  it  were  impressed 
upon  every  heart  connected  with  your  institution, 
not  merely  as  a  system  of  theoretical  belief,  but  as 
a  plan  of  practical  hope  and  life! 

Man  was  made  perfectly  upright;  in  full  posses- 
sion of  all  the  powers  necessary  to  perfect  moral 
agency,  and  with  all  the  dispositions  which  prompt- 
ed to  a  perfectly  correct  use  of  those  powers.  But 
"man  being  in  honour  abode  not."  He  rebelled 
against  God.  He  violated  the  covenant  under 
which  he  was  placed,  and  became  liable  to  the 
dreadful  penalty  which  it  denounced  against  trans- 
gressors. In  this  fall  of  our  first  parents  we  are 
all  sharers.  Adam,  as  the  covenant  head  of  our 
race,  bore  a  representative  character.  He  was  so 
constituted  by  a  sovereign  God;  and  when  he  fell, 
all  his  posterity  fell  with  him.  "In  Adam,"  says 
the  inspired  apostle,  "all  die."  "By  one  man's 
disobedience" — he  again  declares,  "many  were 
made  sinners."  When  our  first  father  lost  the 
holy  image  of  God,  he  was,  of  course,  incapable  of 
transmitting  it  to  us.  We  have,  therefore,  all  to- 
tally lost  our  original  righteousness;  so  that  there 


RELIGION.  87 

is  now,  by  nature,  "  none  righteous,  no  not  one." 
In  short,  we  have  all  become  guilty  and  polluted 
before  God,  and  incapable  of  regaining  his  image 
or  his  favour  by  any  merit  or  doings  of  our  own. 
How,  then,  are  we  to  be  delivered  from  these  de- 
plorable circumstances?  How  shall  we  escape  that 
wrath  and  curse  which  are  the  just  penalty  of  sin? 
"How  can  we  escape  the  damnation  of  hell?"  In 
one  word,  how  can  those  who  must  confess  them- 
selves to  be  sinners,  miserable  sinners,  be  saved? 
The  law  of  God  demands  perfect  obedience  in 
thought,  word  and  deed,  upon  pain  of  death.  It 
makes  no  allowance  for  the  smallest  delinquency 
or  imperfection.  Indeed  a  Being  of  infinite  purity 
cannot  possibly  demand  less  than  perfection.  To 
do  this,  would  be  to  countenance  sin.  Nor  can 
God  set  aside  his  own  law,  or  permit  his  majesty 
and  authority,  as  a  righteous  Governor,  to  be 
trampled  under  foot.  To  '-'clear  the  guilty;"  to 
take  impenitent  rebels,  polluted  with  the  love,  as 
well  as  laden  with  the  guilt  of  sin,  into  the  arms  of 
his  love,  would  be  to  "deny  himself."  Where, 
then,  is  our  refuge?  Can  God,  consistently  with 
his  righteous  character,  forgive  sin  at  all?  If  he 
can,  how  much,  and  under  what  circumstances, 
can  he  forgive?  To  these  questions  the  light  of 
nature  can  give  no  answer.  Without  the  light  of 
revelation,  clouds  and  darkness  rest  upon  all  the 
condition  and  prospects  of  our  race. 


88  RELIGION. 

But,  blessed  be  God!  "life  and  immortality  are 
brought  to  light  through  the  gospel."  Jehovah  in 
his  infinite  wisdom,  power  and  love,  has  devised 
and  proclaimed  a  wonderful  plan  by  which  sin  was 
punished  in  our  representative,  while  the  sinner  is 
pardoned;  by  which  justice  is  completely  satisfied, 
while  mercy  is  extended  to  the  guilty  and  vile;  by 
which  "grace  reigns  through  righteousness  unto 
eternal  life,  by  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."  This 
wonderful  and  glorious  plan  of  mercy  consisted  in 
the  Father  giving  his  own  Son  to  obey,  suffer,  and 
die  in  our  stead,  as  our  substitute;  and  in  the  Son 
consenting  to  take  our  place,  to  bear  the  penalty  of 
the  law  in  our  stead;  to  ^'  put  away  sin  by  the 
sacrifice  of  himself;"  and  by  his  sufferings  and 
obedience  to  purchase  for  us  that  justifying  right- 
eousness which  we  could  never  have  wrought  out 
for  ourselves. 

Such  are  the  "glad  tidings  of  great  joy"  which 
in  the  gospel  are  proclaimed  to  our  fallen  world; — 
that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  eternal  Son  of  God, 
condescended,  in  his  wonderful  love,  to  assume  our 
nature;  to  obey  and  suffer  as  our  surety;  to  lift  the 
penalty  of  sin  from  us,  and  take  it  on  himself;  and 
thus  voluntarily  to  become  the  victim  of  divine 
justice  in  our  stead.  His  language,  in  the  eternal 
counsels  of  peace,  was,  "Let  me  suffer  instead  of 
the  guilty,  let  me  die  to  save  them.  Deliver  them 
from  going  down  to  the  pit;  I  will  be  their  ran- 


RELIGION.  89 

som,"  This  wonderful,  this  unparalleled  offer  was 
accepted.  The  Father  was  well  pleased  for  the 
righteousness  sake  of  his  Son.  He  accepted  his 
atoning  sacrifice  and  perfect  righteousness  as  the 
price  of  our  justification;  so  that  all  who  repent  of 
sin,  and  believe  in  the  name  of  this  great  Mediator, 
are  "freely  justified  from  all  things  from  which 
they  could  not  be  justified  by  the  law  of  Moses" — 
that  is  by  their  own  works  of  obedience.  So  that 
the  Scriptures  may  well  say  concerning  the  Saviour 
— He  is  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteousness  to 
every  one  that  believelh.  He  is  the  Lord  our 
righteousness.  He  was  wounded  for  our  trans- 
gressions; he  VMS  bruised  for  our  iniquities;  the 
chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon  him;  and  by 
his  stripes  ive  are  healed.  He  bare  our  sins  in 
his  own  body  on  the  tree.  He  died  the  just  for 
the  unjust,  that  he  might  bring  us  to  God.  He 
delivered  us  from  the  curse  of  the  law,  being 
made  a  curse  for  us. 

Here,  then,  my  dear  sons,  is  the  only  way  of  a 
sinner's  return  to  God,  and  securing  a  title  to  eter- 
nal blessedness.  In  virtue  of  the  covenant  of  re- 
demption, the  righteousness  of  Christ,  or  what  he 
did  and  suffered  on  our  behalf,  is  placed  to  the  ac- 
count of  all  who  believe  in  him,  as  if  they  had  per- 
formed it  in  their  own  persons.  Though  sinful  and 
utterly  unworthy  in  themselves,  God  is  pleased  to 
pardon  and  accept  them  as  righteous  in  his  sight 
8* 


90  RELIGION. 

only  for  the  righteousness  sake  of  his  beloved  Son. 
I  am  aware,  indeed,  that  son:ie  who  speak  much  of 
the  "merits  of  Christ,"  and  profess  to  rely  entirely 
on  those  merits,  represent  the  whole  subject  in  a 
very  different  light.  They  suppose  that,  in  consi- 
deration of  the  sufferings  and  death  of  our  blessed 
Saviour,  the  original  law  of  God,  demanding  per- 
fect obedience,  is  repealed,  and  a  mitigated  law 
prescribed  as  the  rule  of  our  obedience.  So  that 
now,  under  the  Christian  dispensation,  a  perfect 
obedience  is  not  required,  but  only  an  imperfect 
one,  accommodated  to  our  fallen  nature  and  our 
many  infirmities.  But  they  insist  that  this  imper- 
fect obedience  is  the  meritorious  ground  of  our 
acceptance  with  God;  and,  of  course,  that  eternal 
life  is  the  purchase  of  our  own  works.  In  short, 
the  doctrine  of  these  errorists  is,  that  the  benefit 
conferred  by  the  sufferings  and  death  of  Christ, 
consists,  not  in  providing  an  entire  righteousness 
for  us,  but  only  in  abating  the  demands  of  the  law; 
in  bringing  down  the  divine  requirements  more  to 
a  level  with  our  abihty,  and  still  enabling  us,  low 
as  we  have  fallen,  to  be  the  purchasers  of  salvation 
by  our  own  obedience.  Be  assured  this  view  of 
the  subject  is  a  grievous  departure  from  the  scrip- 
tural doctrine  concerning  the  way  of  salvation. 
The  Bible  represents  our  pardon  and  acceptance 
with  God  as  not  founded,  in  any  respect,  or  in  any 
degree,  on  our  own  obedience;  but  as  wholly  of 


RELIGION.  91 

grace — as  a  mere  unmerited  gift,  bestowed  solely 
on  account  of  what  the  Redeemer  has  done  as  our 
substitute  and  surety.  It  represents  the  holy  law 
of  God  as  remaining  in  all  its  original  strictness 
without  repeal  or  mitigation;  and  as  still  falling 
with  the  whole  weight  of  its  penalty  on  all  who 
have  taken  refuge  by  faith  in  the  Redeemer.  But 
it  declares  the  penalty  to  be  removed  from  all  who 
repent  and  believe  the  gospel,  not  on  account  of 
any  worthiness  in  themselves,  as  the  meritorious 
ground  of  the  benefit,  but  only  on  account  of  the 
perfect  righteousness  of  Him  who,  "through  the 
Eternal  Spirit  offered  himself  without  spot  to  God.'' 
In  short,  the  doctrine  of  Christ  is,  that  the  holy 
character  of  God  remaining  unchangeably  the 
same,  and  his  law  remaining  without  the  least 
mitigation  or  abatement,  the  penitent  and  believing 
are  accepted  as  righteous  solely  on  account  of  the 
obedience  of  the  Mediator  set  to"  their  account,  and 
considered  as  wrought  for  them. 

This  righteousness  of  Jehovah  the  Saviour  is 
said  to  be  "to  all,  and  upon  all  them  that  believe,'' 
— that  is,  it  is  imputed  to  none — set  to  the  ac- 
count of  none  but  (hose  who  receive  Christ  by  faith. 
Faith  is  that  great  master  grace  by  which  we  be- 
come united  to  the  Saviour,  and  his  merits  made 
ours.  This  righteousness,  therefore,  is  called  "the 
righteousness  of  faith,"  and  "the  righteousness  of 
God  by  faith."     Hence  we  are  said  to  be  "justified 


92  RELIGION. 

by  faith,"  and  to  be  "saved  by  faith;"  not  that 
faith,  as  an  act  of  ours,  is,  in  any  measure,  the  meri- 
torious ground  of  our  justification;  but  all  these 
expressions  imply  that  there  is  an  inseparable  con- 
nection, in  the  economy  of  grace,  between  believing 
in  Christ,  and  being  justified  by  him,  or  having  his 
righteousness  imputed  to  us.  Happy,  thrice  happy 
they,  who  can  thus  call  the  Saviour  theirs,  and  who 
have  thus  "received  the  atonement."  From  this 
hour,  though  unworthy  in  themselves,  they  are 
graciously  pronounced  righteous  by  their  heavenly 
Judge,  on  account  of  what  the  Mediator  has  done. 
Their  sins,  though  many,  are,  for  his  sake,  forgiven 
them.  They  are  "accepted  in  the  Beloved." 
There  is  no  condemnation  to  them  now;  and  they 
shall  find,  to  their  eternal  joy,  that  there  is  both 
safety  and  happiness  in  appearing  clothed  in  the 
righteousness  of  Him  who  loved  sinners,  and  gave 
himself  for  them,  ih  "robes  washed  and  made  white 
in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb." 

But  we  not  only  need  to  be  justified  by  the 
righteousness  of  Christ;  we  also  indispensably  need 
to  be  sanctified  by  the  Spirit  of  Christ.  We  are  by 
nature  polluted  as  well  as  guilty.  Accordingly  the 
purification  of  our  hearts,  as  well  as  the  pardon  of 
our  sins,  is  one  of  the  great  benefits  which  the 
blessed  Redeemer  has  purchased  and  secured  by 
covenant  to  all  believers.  And  for  both  these 
benefits  the  plan  of  mercy  exhibited  in  the  Gospel 


RELIGION.  93 

makes  equal  and  effectual  provision.  "Whom  he 
justifies  them  he  also  sanctifies."  By  the  power 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  the  dominion  of  sin  is  broken  in 
the  hearts  of  all  who  are  brought  under  the  power 
of  the  gospel.  The  dominion  of  corruption  in  the 
soul  is  destroyed;  the  love  of  it  is  taken  away;  and 
though  not  perfectly  sanctified  in  the  present  life, 
yet  every  believer  has  his  sanctification  begun. 
And  it  is  carried  on,  not  by  his  own  wisdom  or 
strength,  but  by  the  same  divine  power  by  which 
it  was  commenced;  until  he  is,  at  last,  made  per- 
fectly holy,  as  well  as  perfectly  happy,  in  the  pre- 
sence of  his  God  and  Saviour. 

Such,  my  dear  sons,  is  that  most  interesting  of 
all  messages  which  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ 
brings  to  all  who  hear  the  Gospel.  It  charges  us 
"with  being  sinners — miserable  sinners  in  the  sight 
of  God,  without  merit,  without  strength,  and  with- 
out hope  in  ourselves.  It  freely  offers  us  peace 
and  pardon,  and  sanctification,  and  eternal  life, 
"without  money  and  without  price,"  that  is  as  a 
free  unmerited  gift,  "through  the  redemption  that 
is  in  Christ  Jesus."  Its  language  is,  "whosoever 
Cometh  to  Him,  he  will  in  no  wise  cast  out;"  and 
again,  "whosoever  will,  let  him  come,  and  take  of 
the  water  of  life  freely."  It  calls  upon  you  to  re- 
nounce all  confidence  in  yourselves,  and  to  receive 
and  rest  on  Christ  alone  for  salvation  as  he  is  freely 
offered  in  the  gospel.     To  this  end,  it  is  indispensa- 


94  RELIGION. 

ble  that  you  be  convinced  of  sin;  that  you  feel  a 
deep  and  cordial  sense  of  your  own  sinfulness  and 
imworthiness;  that  you  despair  of  saving  your- 
selves; that  you  fall  at  the  footstool  of  sovereign 
grace,  feeling  that  you  deserve  to  die,  and  that  you 
can  have  no  hope  but  in  the  atoning  blood  and 
sanctifying  spirit  of  the  Redeemer.  Until  you  are 
prepared  to  accept  of  Him  with  such  convictions, 
and  in  this  character;  until  you  sincerely  feel  that 
you  have  nothing  to  plead  but  his  merit,  and  hum- 
bly and  gratefully  to  rely  on  his  grace  and  love  for 
all  that  you  need,  you  have  yet  to  learn  all  that  is 
practical  and  precious  of  this  holy  religion. 

Say  notj  that  our  sinning  and  falling  in  Adam, 
and  our  recovery  through  the  atoning  sacrifice  and 
righteousness  of  another,  are  mysteries  which  you 
cannot  understand,  and  which  are  revolting  to  your 
minds.  Surely  it  ought  not  to  excite  surprise  or 
wonder  in  a  reasonable  being,  that  we  should  find 
mysteries  in  a  plan  of  salvation  contrived  and  made 
known  by  an  infinite  and  incomprehensible  God. 
But  "  let  God  be  true,  and  every  man  a  liar." 
What  I  have  stated  is  plainly  the  doctrine  of  the 
word  of  God  in  relation  to  this  great  subject.  It 
clearly  informs  us  that  as  in  Adam  we  lost  our 
innocence,  and  the  divine  favour;  so  through  Christ, 
who  is  styled  the  "second  Adam,"  we  regain  both 
the  favour  and  image  of  God.  "  The  mouth  of  the 
Lord  hath  spoken  it."     Let  this  suffice.     Let  us 


RELIGION.  95 

abhor  the  thought  of  being  found  "  fighting  against 
God." 

But  after  all  do  you  ask,  of  what  great  value  is 
this  religion,  that  you  should  be  urged  with  so 
much  importunity  to  embrace  it?  1  hope  you  will 
not  be  disposed  to  ask  such  a  question;  but  if  you 
should  be,  let  me  answer,  its  value  is  unspeakable, 
is  infinite,  for  the  present  world,  as  well  as  the 
future;  for  "  godliness  is  profitable  unto  all  things, 
having  the  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is,  as  well 
as  of  that  which  is  to  come." 

True  religion  is  the  only  solid  basis  and  pledge 
of  good  morals.  I  do  not  say,  that  there  are  no 
examples  of  unblemished  morals  among  those  who 
are  not  truly  religious.  Nor  do  I  mean  to  assert, 
that  all  who  claim  to  be  religious  are  correct  in 
their  morals.  But  my  meaning  is,  that  the  posses- 
sion of  true  religion  is  the  only  sure  pledge,  the 
only  effectual  guaranty  of  sober  deportment,  of 
pure  and  exemplary  morals,  especially  amidst  the 
ardour  and  temptations  of  youth.  It  is  a  common 
maxim,  among  the  men  of  the  world,  that  "every 
man  has  his  price."  It  cannot  be  denied,  that,  in- 
dependently of  the  power  of  religion,  there  is  too 
much  reason  for  the  adoption  of  this  maxim.  No 
one  can  be  considered  as  safe  from  the  allurements 
of  sensuality,  of  avarice,  or  of  ambition,  unless 
fortified  by  principles  drawn  froni  the  power  and 
grace  of  God.     There  is  absolutely  no  security,  my 


96  RELIGION. 

dear  sons,  in  any  thing  short  of  this.  We  have  all 
seen  young  men  of  the  most  elevated  connections; 
of  the  finest  talents;  of  the  most  excellent  scholar- 
ship; of  the  very  first  general  promise  of  character; 
and  who  seemed  destined  to  adorn  the  highest  sta- 
tions;— we  have  seen  them  falling  into  habits  of 
intemperance,  gambling,  fraud,  lewdness,  or  some 
other  degrading  moral  delinquency;  gradually  losing 
their  reputation;  losing  their  own  self-respect;  and 
either  consigned  by  their  vices  to  premature  graves, 
or  sunk,  through  the  whole  of  their  course,  into 
wretchedness  and  infamy.  When  you  think  of 
such  misguided  and  ruined  youth,  you  may  be 
ready  to  think  and  to  say,  that  you  can  rely  on 
your  own  resolution  to  guard  against  such  a  ruin- 
ous course.  But  all  confidence  in  any  thing  except 
religion  to  preserve  you  from  such  courses,  is  falla- 
cious and  vain.  And  by  religion  here  I  do  not 
mean  merely  a  profession  of  religion;  for  that  will 
be  no  effectual  safeguard  to  any  one;  we  have 
seen  professors,  of  more  than  ordinary  apparent 
zeal,  disgrace  themselves  and  the  name  by  which 
they  were  called.  But  I  mean  the  possession  of 
real  practical  religion — the  religion  of  the  heart. 
This  is  a  real  security.  This  will  hold  its  possessor  ' 
firmly  and  safely;  and  amidst  all  the  storms  of  life, 
preserve  from  fatal  shipwreck.  We  shall  never 
hear  of  such  a  young  man  that  he  has  died  a 
drunkard;  or  that  he  has  been  detected  in  base, 


RELIGION.  97 

mean,  or  swindling  practices;  or  that  he  has  be- 
come the  companion  of  gamblers  and  blacklegs; 
or  that  he  has  murdered  some  acquaintance,  or 
been  murdered  himself  in  a  duel;  or  that  he  has 
been  embarrassed  and  degraded  by  some  licentious 
connection.  No,  we  shall  hear  no  such  tidings  of 
any  such  youth.  He  may  not  be  rich;  though  he 
will  be  more  likely  to  succeed  in  his  temporal 
affairs  then  than  any  other  person.  He  may  not 
be  crowned  with  a  large  amount  of  worldly  hon- 
our; though  the  probability  is  that  he  will  be  more 
successful  in  this  respect  also  than  the  most  of  those 
who  are  destitute  of  religious  principle.  But  he 
will  be  happy  while  he  does  live.  He  will  be  re- 
spected and  beloved  and  useful.  His  latter  end  will 
be  peace;  and  his  name  will  be  embalmed  in  the 
memory  of  the  wise  and  the  good,  while  the  name 
of  the  wicked  shall  rot. 

Further,  true  religion  is  the  only  adequate  com- 
forter under  the  sorrows  and  trials  of  life.  These 
will  come,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  to  all.  The 
sanguine  young  man  may,  indeed,  imagine,  in  the 
buoyancy  of  his  hopes,  that  he  shall  never  see  sor- 
row; but  that  health,  affluence,  and  pleasure  shall 
mark  his  whole  course.  But  if  he  "  see  many  days, 
and  rejoice  in  them  all,  let  him  remember  the  days 
of  darkness,  for  they  shall  be  many."  There  will 
be  seasons  of  gloom  and  adversity  to  the  most 
favoured.  In  those  seasons  where  will  be  your 
9 


98  RELIGION. 

refuge?  Happy  are  those  who  when  the  world 
frowns,  when  dangers  threaten,  when  heaUh  gives 
way,  when  disappointments  arise,  can  look  up  to  a 
reconciled  God  and  Father;  can  go  to  a  throne  of 
grace,  and  there  leave  every  interest  in  the  hands 
of  infinite  Wisdom  and  Goodness!  It  has  been  my 
happiness  to  see  such  young  men;  to  see  them 
adorning  and  enjoying  the  college  to  which  you 
belong;  and  the  recollection  of  the  noble  spirit  and 
character  which  they  presented,  is  now  refreshing 
to  the  mind,  especially  when  contrasted  with  the 
timidity,  the  weakness,  and  the  comfortless  charac- 
ter of  the  frivolous  throng  around  them  in  circum- 
stances of  similar  trial.  Montesquieu  might  well 
say,  "  How  admirable  is  that  religion  which,  while 
it  seems  only  to  have  in  view  the  felicity  of  another 
world,  constitutes  the  happiness  of  the  present!" 
Sir  Humphry  Davy,  born  in  poverty  ,and  in  an 
obscure  corner  of  England,  wasraised  by  industry 
and  merit,  unaided  by  friends,  to  such  distinction, 
that  he  was  chosen  at  the  age  of  twenty-two,  to  fill 
the  chair  of  chemistry  in  the  "  Royal  Institution" 
of  London.  A  few  years  afterwards  he  was  elected 
President  of  the  "  Royal  Society"  of  London,  and 
stood,  confessedly,  at  the  head  of  the  chemists  of 
Europe.  His  testimony  in  favour  of  the  consola- 
tions of  religion  is  of  the  following  decisive  charac- 
ter. "  I  envy,"  says  he,  "  no  quality  of  the  mind  or 
intellect  in  others;  not  genius,  power,  wit  or  fancy; 


RELIGION.  99 

but  if  I  could  choose  what  would  be  most  delight- 
ful, and,  I  believe,  most  useful  to  me,  I  should  pre- 
fer a  firm  religions  belief  to  every,  other  blessing; 
for  it  makes  life  a  discipline  of  goodness; — creates 
new  hopes  when  all  earthly  hopes  vanish; — throws 
over  the  decay,  the  destruction  of  existence  the 
most  precious  of  all  lights; — awakens  life  even  in 
death,  and  from  corruption  and  decay  calls  up 
beauty  and  divinity; — makes  an  instrument  of  tor- 
ture and  shame  the  ladder  of  ascent  to  paradise; — 
and,  far  above  all  combinations  of  earthly  hopes, 
calls  up  the  most  delightful  visions  of  palms  and 
amaranths,  the  gardens  of  the  blessed,  the  security 
of  everlasting  joys,  when  the  sensualist  and  the 
sceptic  see  only  gloom,  decay  and  annihilation." 
His  last  work — "Consolations  in  Travel,"  still 
more  fully  developes  his  highly  interesting  senti- 
ments on  this  subject.* 

Finally;  true  religion  is  the  only  preparation 
and  security  for  future  and  eternal  blessedness. 
Can  any  thinking  being,  however  young  and  buoy- 
ant in  spirit,  forget  that  he  is  soon  to  die,  and  bid 
farewell  to  all  that  he  values  here  below;  and  that 
this  event  may  take  place  before  he  has  passed  the 
age  of  adolescence?  And  that,  of  course,  the  inter- 
ests of  eternity  are  infinitely  the  most  momentous? 
What  is  the  body  to  the  soul?     What  are  all  the 

•  See  Memoir  of  Sir  H.  Davy. 


100  RELIGION. 

transient  joys  of  earth  to  the  everlasting  treasures 
of  heaven?  For  those  treasures  and  joys  you  can 
never  be  prepared  unless  you  have  a  taste  and 
relish  for  them.  Even  if  a  holy  God  had  not  de- 
clared in  his  word,  that  "without  holiness  no  man 
can  see  the  Lord,"  the  nature  of  the  case  would 
pronounce  the  same  decision.  No  one  can  be 
happy  but  in  his  appropriate  element.  To  imagine 
that  any  one  can  reach  and  enjoy  a  holy  heaven, 
without  some  degree  of  meetness  for  the  society 
and  employments  of  that  blessed  world,  is,  of 
all  delusions,  one  of  the  most  preposterous  and 
miserable.  Our  title  to  heaven  is,  as  you  have 
heard,  what  the  Saviour  has  done  and  suffered  for 
us  as  our  surety.  But  our  indispensable  prepara- 
tion for  heaven  is  that  renewal  of  our  nature  by 
the  Holy  Spirit  which  renders  the  presence  and 
glory  of  God  delightful  to  the  soul.  He  who  re- 
mains under  the  power  of  that  carnal  mind  which 
is  enmity  against  God,  can  be  happy  nowhere  in 
the  universe.  Even  if  he  could  overleap  the  walls 
of  the  celestial  paradise,  it  would  be  no  heaven  to 
him.  He  would  still  be  constrained  with  anguish 
to  say, — "  where'er  I  go  is  hell,  myself  am  hell!" 
These  considerations,  I  have  no  doubt,  will  con- 
vince, have  convinced,  your  judgment  that  religion 
is  worthy  of  your  supreme  regard.  Its  claims  are 
so  obviously  reasonable  and  powerful,  that  they 
can  never  be  resisted  by  sober  reasoning.     But 


RELIGION.  101 

there  is  no  delusion  more  common  than  that  which 
tempts  the  young  to  postpone  all  attention  to  this 
subject  to  a  future  period.  Knowing  its  importance, 
but  "  having  no  heart  for  it"  at  present,  they  are 
ready,  from  day  to  day,  to  say  to  the  serious  moni- 
tor— "go  thy  way  for  this  time,  when  I  have  a 
more  convenient  season  1  will  call  for  thee."  Let 
me  warn  you  against  this  procrastinating  spirit  by 
which  so  many  have  been  deceived  and  ruined. 
If  religion  be  so  precious  as  a  guide,  as  a  comforter, 
as  a  pledge  of  temporal  prosperity  and  enjoyment, 
and  as  the  indispensable  means  of  eternal  happi- 
ness— can  you  begin  too  soon  to  enjoy  its  benefits? 
If  "  the  ways  of  wisdom  are  ways  of  pleasantness, 
and  all  her  paths  peace,"  is  it  wise  to  say,  "Let 
me  put  off  the  attainment  of  this  happiness  to  a 
future  period?"  Surely  the  sooner  you  begin  to 
enjoy  advantages  so  radical  and  precious  the  bet- 
ter. Besides;  have  you  any  assurance  that  you 
will  live  to  that  age,  or  to  see  that  concurrence  of 
circumstances  which  you  fondly  imagine  will  be 
more  favourable  to  engaging  in  a  life  of  piety  than 
the  present  time?  Not  long  since,  a  graduate  of 
one  of  our  colleges  was  heard  to  say — "I  have 
finished  my  college  education.  I  will  now  devote 
two  years  to  the  study  of  a  profession;  and  then  I 
will  take  one  year  to  see  lohat  there  is  in  that 
mighty  thing  they  call  religion."  So  calculated 
this  blooming  sanguine   youth.     But  before  the 


102  RELIGION. 

time  specified  had  half  elapsed,  he  suddenly  fell 
sick;  was  seized  with  delirium;  and  expired  with- 
out hope.  But  why  need  1  resort  to  the  case  of 
one  with  whom  you  had  no  personal  acquaintance? 
Can  you  forget  your  own  beloved  brothers  and  sis- 
ters, removed  in  the  morning  of  life;  one  of  whom 
was  cut  down  in  a  few  weeks  after  his  graduation, 
and  when  he  was  just  entering  on  a  course  of  pro- 
fessional study;  and  another  at  a  still  earlier  stage 
of  his  education?  What  security  have  you  that 
you  will  live  to  see  another  year?  And  even  if 
you  could  be  certain  of  living  to  old  age,  what 
reason  have  you  to  hope,  if  you  go  on  neglecting 
religion,  and  hardening  yourselves  against  its 
claims,  that  you  will  have  grace  given  you,  even 
in  the  decline  of  life,  to  "  consider  your  ways?"  0 
how  many  who  were  in  youth  thoughtful  and  ten- 
der, have  become  more  and  more  callous  to  every 
serious  impression,  as  they  advanced  in  life;  and 
have  at  length,  sunk  into  the  grave  as  destitute  of 
hope  as  ever!  Be  entreated,  then,  my  dear  sons, 
now,  while  your  hearts  are  comparatively  tender; 
before  the  cares  of  the  world  have  entwined  around 
them  a  thousand  entanglements;  before  you  be- 
come hardened  by  inveterate  habits  of  sin;  be  en- 
treated to  make  choice  of  "  that  good  part  which 
can  never  be  taken  away  from  you." 

I  wish  it  were  in  my  power,  my  beloved  sons,  to 
impart  to  you  such  views  of  this  subject,  as  I  am 


RELIGION.  103 

sure  an  enlightened  attention  to  facts  could  not  fail 
to  give.  Take  up  a  college  catalogue.  0  it  is  a 
most  instructive  pamphlet!  It  affords  a  lively- 
comment  on  all  that  I  have  told  you  about  the  un- 
certainty of  life,  and  the  folly  of  delaying  to  enter 
on  the  duties  of  true  religion.  Take  it  up,  and 
look  at  the  asterisk— \hd^.  mournful-mark  of  death 
which  stands  opposite  to  the  names  of  so  many 
who  received  the  honours  of  your  college,  within 
your  own  recollection.  How  some  of  them  died,  I 
am  not  able  to  tell  you;  but  others  departed, 
lamenting  that  they  had  not  made  more  and  earlier 
preparation  for  a  dying  hour,  and  that  their  time 
had  been  so  much  given  to  the  vanities  of  the 
world.  Will  you  not  profit  by  such  painful  ex- 
amples? "  0  that  you  were  wise,  that  you  under- 
stood these  things,  that  you  would  consider  your 
latter  end!" 

If  you  ask  me,  how  that  piety  which  is  repre- 
sented as  so  important,  is  to  be  attained?  I  answer, 
it  is  not  the  spontaneous  growth  of  our  nature.  It 
is  that  to  which  we  are  naturally  averse.  It  is  the 
gift  of  God;  and  to  be  sought  in  the  diligent  use  of 
those  means  which  God  has  appointed  for  drawing 
near  to  him.  The  royal  Psalmist  asks — "Where- 
with shall  a  young  man  cleanse  his  way?"  And 
his  answer  is,  "  By  taking  heed  thereto  according 
to  thy  word."  That  is,  it  requires  sincere  and 
solemn  application  of  mind  to  the  subject,  without 


io4 


RELIGION. 


which  no  one  has  a  right  to  hope  that  he  shal. 
make  the  attainment. 

The  diligent  perusal  of  the  Word  of  God  is  one 
of  the  most  obvious  and  important  of  the  means 
of  grace.  The  Bible  was  given  us  to  be  "  a  light 
to  our  feet,  and  a  lamp  to  our  path."  It  exhibits, 
with  unerring  fidelity,  every  enemy,  every  snare, 
every  danger  which  beset  your  path.  It  gives  all 
the  information,  all  the  warning,  all  the  caution, 
and  all  the  encouragement  which  you  need.  It 
tells  you,  more  perfectly  than  any  other  book,  all 
that  you  have  to  fear,  and  all  that  you  have  to 
hope  for.  There  is  not  a  form  of  error  or  of  cor- 
ruption against  which  it  does  not  put  you  on  your 
guard;  not  an  excellence  or  a  duty  which  it  does 
not  direct  you  to  cultivate  and  attain.  No  one  ever 
made  this  holy  book  the  guide  of  his  life,  without 
walking  wisely,  safely  and  happily;  without  find- 
ing the  truest  enjoyment  in  this  world,  and  eternal 
blessedness  in  the  world  to  come. 

But  this  is  not  all.  The  Bible  is  not  only  the 
word  of  life.  It  is  not  only  that  wonderful  book 
which  was  sent  from  heaven  to  show  us  the  way  of 
salvation:  it  not  only  contains  the  glad  tidings 
of  pardon,  and  peace,  and  love,  and  glory  to  a 
lost  world;  and  is,  of  course,  worthy  of  the  most 
grateful  reception,  and  the  most  diligent  and  rever- 
ential study;  but  there  is,  besides,  something  in  it 
which  it  becomes  every  aspirant  to  literary  reputa- 


RELIGION.  105 

tion  duly  to  appreciate.  It  is  full  of  the  noblest 
specimens  of  literary  beauty,  and  of  tender,  pa- 
thetic eloquence,  that  the  world  ever  saw.  There 
is  something  in  it  better  adapted  to  touch  the  finest 
and  best  cords  of  human  sensibility,  to  reach  and 
sway  the  heart,  than  the  most  laboured  products  of 
rhetoric  that  the  skill  of  man  ever  formed.  I  have 
known  more  than  one  case  in  which  secular  ora- 
tors have  drawn  from  the  figures  and  the  language 
of  the  Bible  their  mightiest  weapons,  both  for  con- 
vincing the  judgment,  and  captivating  the  hearts  of 
their  hearers;  and  am  persuaded  that  he  who  does 
not  study  his  Bible,  as  well  as  his  secular  authori- 
ties, in  preparing  for  public  life,  neglects  a  very 
important  part  of  his  education. 

And  in  reading  the  Bible,  I  hope  you  will  not 
forget  that  it  is  to  be  read  with  feelings  and  in  a 
manner  very  difi'erent  from  those  with  which  you 
peruse  all  other  books.  If  it  be  indeed  inspired  of 
God,  and  given  to  teach  us  the  way  of  salvation,  it 
surely  ought  to  be  read  with  serious  and  fixed 
attention;  with  unwearied  diligence; — with  deep 
humility;  with  candid  application  to  your  own 
heart  and  conscience;  and  with  devout  application 
to  the  throne  of  grace,  that  you  may  be  enabled  to 
read  it  with  understanding  and  with  profit.  Hap- 
py, thrice  happy,  is  that  youth  who  learns  to  go  to 
the  Bible  for  all  his  sentiments,  principles,  and 
rules  of  action;  who  searches  its  sacred  pages  daily 


106  RELIGION. 

for  direction  in  his  pursuits,  for  guidance  in  his  per- 
plexities, for  comfort  in  his  sorrows,  and  for  help  in 
every  time  of  need.  Such  have  the  best  pledge  of 
temporal  enjoyment,  and  of  eternal  blessedness. 

Another  important  means  by  which  you  ought 
to  seek  the  favour  and  image  of  God  is  prayer. 
Need  I  dwell  either  on  the  duty  or  the  reasonable- 
ness of  this  exercise?  If  we  are  entirely  dependent 
on  God  for  every  temporal  and  spiritual  blessing, 
then  it  is  surely  reasonable  that  we  should  acknow- 
ledge our  dependence,  and  apply  to  him  with  hu- 
mility and  earnestness  for  his  aid.  If  his  favour  is 
life,  and  his  blessings  the  best  riches,  it  is  evident 
that  we  ought  to  supplicate  them  with  importunity 
and  perseverance.  If  we  are  sinners,  unworthy  of 
the  Divine  favour,  we  ought  to  humble  ourselves 
at  his  footstool,  and  make  confession  of  our  sins 
with  penitence,  and  a  sincere  desire  to  do  better  in 
time  to  come.  If  he  has  revealed  a  plan  of  mercy 
and  grace  to  us,  of  which  he  invites  and  commands 
us  to  avail  ourselves,  then  every  principle  of  self- 
interest  concurs  with  reason  in  urging  us  to  seek 
with  earnestness  a  participation  in  that  mercy. 
And  if  our  Maker  and  Redeemer  has,  in  so  many 
words  commanded  us  "  by  prayer  and  supplication 
with  thanksgiving,  to  make  known  our  requests  to 
God,"  who  can  question,  for  a  moment,  the  reason- 
ableness of  a  compliance  with  that  command? 
I  am  afraid  that  many  a  youth  who  has  been 


RELIGION.  107 

taught  from  his  childhood  to  fear  God,  would  be 
ashamed  to  be  seen  bowing  his  knees  in  secret  be- 
fore that  Being  whom  his  parents  supremely  love 
and  venerate,  and  by  whom  he  has  been  himself 
protected  and  sustained  ever  since  he  was  born. 
Can  it  be  necessary  for  me  to  demonstrate  to  you 
that  this  is  a  shame  as  foohsh,  as  infatuated  as  it  is 
criminal?  i\.shamed  of  acknowledging  your  Maker, 
your  Sovereign,  your  constant  Benefactor,  who 
alone  can  make  you  happy,  either  in  this  world,  or 
the  world  to  come!  0  what  insanity  is  here!  It  is 
to  be  ashamed  of  your  true  glory.  A  shame  the 
folly  and  infatuation  of  which  can  be  equalled  only 
by  that  which  is  manifested  by  the  old  as  well  as 
the  young,  viz.  "glorying  in  their  shame." 

Yon  will  have  no  good  reason  to  expect  the 
blessing  of  God  on  your  persons,  your  studies,  or 
any  of  your  interests,  without  feehng  your  need  of 
that  blessing,  and  importunately  asking  for  it.  Let 
no  day,  then,  pass  without  at  least  two  seasons  of 
prayer.  When  you  rise  in  the  morning,  implore 
the  guidance  and  benediction  of  heaven  on  ail  the 
employments  and  privileges  of  the  day;  for  you 
know  not  what  may  occur  to  disturb  your  peace, 
or  endanger  your  character  or  improvement.  And 
when  you  retire  to  rest  at  night,  ask  for  the  protec- 
tion and  blessing  of  Him  who  neither  slumbereth 
nor  sleepeth,  over  the  repose  of  the  night-watches. 
Nor  are  these  the  only  proper  objects  of  petition. 


108  RELIGION. 

Pray  for  your  instructors;  that  they  may  be  aided 
in  their  official  work,  and  rewarded  for  all  their 
labours  of  love.  Pray  for  your  fellow  students; 
that  they  may  be  imbued  with  a  love  of  know- 
ledge, with  a  love  of  order,  and  with  all  those 
fraternal  and  honourable  dispositions  which  may 
render  their  society  profitable  and  happy.  Rely  on 
it,  the  more  you  pray,  the  happier  you  will  be. 
The  more  you  make  all  around  you  the  objects  of 
your  benevolent  petitions,  the  more  pleasant  and 
profitable  will  be  all  your  intercourse  with  them. 

As  another  important  means  of  grace,  make  a 
point  of  attending  on  the  public  ivorship  of  God, 
on  every  Lord's  day,  as  well  as  on  every  other 
occasion  when  you  have  an  opportunity  so  to  do. 
Let  no  pretext  for  absenting  yourselves  from  the 
house  of  God  ever  be  admitted.  On  the  one  hand, 
those  who  habitually  neglect  it,  manifest  a  spirit 
of  disregard  to  the  divine  authority,  which  indicates 
a  spirit  most  unpromising  in  regard  to  their  spi- 
ritual interest.  While,  on  the  other  hand,  those 
who  make  conscience  of  being  present  with  the 
people  of  God  whenever  they  are  assembled,  mani- 
fest a  reverence  for  his  name  and  his  worship 
which  we  have  reason  to  hope  will  issue  in  their 
happy  preparation  for  his  kingdom. 

Let  me  further  recommend  that  you  be  in  the 
habit  of  statedly  setting  apart  seasons  of  retire- 
ment, meditation,  and  self  examination,  in  regard 


RELIGION.  109 

to  your  spiritual  interest.  I  once  heard  of  a  young 
man  who  was  remarkably  thoughtless  and  dissi- 
pated, whose  father,  in  his  last  will  bequeathed  to 
him  a  large  estate,  on  condition  that  he  would,  for 
so  many  years,  spend  half  an  hour  every  morning 
by  himself,  in  serious  reflection.  The  young  man, 
in  obedience  to  this  injunction,  began  a  compliance 
with  it.  At  first  it  was  a  most  unwelcome  task  to 
which  he  forced  himself  as  a  means  of  holding  his 
property.  He  soon  submitted  to  it  with  less  and 
less  reluctance,  until  at  length  he  adhered  to  it  of 
choice,  and  became  a  truly  virtuous  and  pious  man. 
The  only  other  means  of  attaining  the  know- 
ledge and  love  of  God  which  I  shall  urge,  is  the 
reverential  observance  of  the  holy  Sabbath.  As 
the  consecration  of  this  day  to  rest  from  secular 
labours,  and  to  the  service  of  God,  is  one  of  the 
most  important  means  of  keeping  the  world  in 
order,  and  maintaining  the  reign  of  religion  among 
men;  so  the  profanation  of  this  day,  is  one  of  those 
sins  which  tend  pre-eminently  to  banish  religious 
sentiments  from  the  mind,  and  to  draw  down  the 
curse  of  heaven,  both  on  individuals  and  society. 
There  can  be  little  hope  either  of  the  success  or  the 
happiness  of  that  individual  or  that  community 
who  habitually  trample  on  that  day  which  God 
has  set  apart  for  himself.  The  celebrated  Lord 
Chief  Justice  Hale,  equally  distinguished  as  a  jurist 
and  a  Christian,  has  left  on  record,  "  that  he  never 
10 


110  RELIGION. 

prospered  in  any  secular  employment,  unless  it  were 
a  work  of  necessity  or  mercy,  undertaken  on  the 
sabbath;  and,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  more  closely 
he  applied  himself  to  the  appropriate  duties  of  that 
holy  day,  the  more  happy  and  successful  were  all 
the  business  and  employments  of  the  week  follow- 
ing." The  same,  I  am  persuaded,  will  be  the  ex- 
perience of  every  one  who  pays  attention  enough 
to  this  subject  to  mark  the  facts  which  occur  in  his 
own  case.  If,  therefore,  I  were  to  hear  that  you 
were  in  the  habit  of  pursuing  your  ordinary  studies 
on  the  sabbath,  or  of  engaging  in  the  secular 
amusements  in  which  many  profanely  indulge  on 
that  day,  I  should  expect  to  hear  little  good  either 
of  your  moral  or  religious  character,  and  should 
have  little  hope  of  your  ultimate  success  even  in 
your  intellectual  pursuits.  Rely  upon  it,  you  v/ill 
never  gain  by  robbing  God,  or  by  profaning  any  of 
his  institutions. 

My  dear  sons,  consider  these  things.  The  bless- 
ing of  God  is  the  best  riches,  and  he  addeth  no  sor- 
row with  it.  That  blessing  can  never  be  expected 
unless  you  sincerely  seek  and  attain  true  religion. 
« It  is,  therefore,  not  a  vain  thing  for  you;  it  is  your 
life."  Upon  this  hangs  every  thing  precious,  every 
thing  truly  valuable  for  both  worlds.  There  have, 
indeed,  been  instances  of  men  who  had  no  religion 
enjoying  much  temporal  aggrandizement,  and  no 
small    degree  of  honour  among  men.     But  how 


RELIGION.  Ill 

much  happier  would  they  have  been,  and  how- 
much  more  solid  honour  and  confidence  might  they 
have  enjoyed,  had  they  been  sincere  Christians, 
living  habitually  under  the  influence,  and  enjoying 
the  consolations  of  the  gospel  of  Christ!  Sir  Wal- 
ter Scott,  and  even  the  cold-blooded  infidel,  Byron, 
each  attained  a  distinction  in  his  day,  which  many 
a  youth  has  been  tempted  to  envy.  But  was 
either  of  them  a  happy  man?  Especially  was  not 
the  author  of  "Childe  Harold"  regarded  by  every 
sober-minded  contemporary  as,  with  all  his  talents, 
no  better  than  a  fiend  incarnate.  And  when  we 
come  to  the  death-bed  of  both,  what  do  we  see  but 
the  absence  of  that  hope  and  comfort  which  every 
wise  man  desires  to  enjoy  in  his  last  hour? 

My  dearly  beloved  sons!  You  must,  one  day, 
be  serious,  whether  you  will  or  not.  At  present 
the  vanities  of  the  world  may  absorb  your  atten- 
tion, and  hide  more  important  objects  from  your 
view.  But,  be  assured,  the  time  is  approaching 
when  you  will  see  things  in  a  very  different  light. 
The  fashion  of  this  world  is  rapidly  passing  away. 
Scenes  untried  and  awful  are  about  to  open  before 
you.  Death,  judgment  and  eternity  are  hastening 
on  apace.  Then,  when  the  sources  of  earthly 
comfort  are  dried  up;  when  heart  and  flesh  begin 
to  fail;  when  you  are  about  to  bid  an  everlasting 
farewell  to  this  world,  and  all  its  vanities;  then,  if 
not  before,  you  will  certainly  lament  the  want  of 


118  RELIGION". 

sober  consideration.  Then,  if  not  before,  you  will 
cry  out  in  the  bitterness  of  remorse,  "  0  that  I  had 
been  wise,  that  I  had  thought  of  this,  that  I  had 
considered  my  latter  end!"  Here,  then,  I  must 
leave  you,  "  commending  you  to  God,  and  to  the 
word  of  his  grace,  which  is  able  to  enlighten  your 
minds;  to  give  you  an  heart  to  serve  him;  and  to 
prepare  you  for  an  inheritance  amongst  all  them 
that  are  sanctified." 


113 


LETTER    VI. 


REBELLIONS. 


Ars  cujus  principium  est  mentiri,  medium  laborare,  finis  pocnitcre. 

Anon. 
Facilis  descensus  Averni; 


Sed  revocare  gradum, 

Hoc  opus,  hie  labor  est.  JEhkid,  VI.  126. 

My  Dear  Sons, 

Though  you  have  never  been  witnesses  of  one 
of  those  grand  rebellions  of  which  the  history  of 
our  college  has  furnished  some  examples,  yet  you 
have  seen  enough  of  the  elements  and  the  incep- 
tive workings  of  such  insanity,  to  form  a  tolerable 
estimate  of  its  real  character.  And  I  think  I  may 
venture  to  say,  that  the  more  you  have  seen  of  the 
causes  and  spirit  of  such  lawless  outbreakings,  the 
less  you  have  respected  them,  and  the  more  you 
have  been  disposed  to  contemplate  their  fomentors 
and  their  conductors  with  mingled  feelings  of  con- 
tempt and  abhorrence.  And  I  can  assure  you,  my 
dear  sons,  if  it  were  possible  to  impart  to  you  the 
10* 


114  REBELLIONS. 

more  intimate  knowledge  that  I  have  had  of  the 
commencement,  the  history  and  the  termination  of 
all  such  scenes  as  have  occurred  in  the  college  with 
which  you  are  connected,  within  the  last  forty 
years,  your  impressions  of  their  folly  and  wicked- 
ness would  be  still  deeper  and  more  abhorrent. 

Few  things  are  more  adapted  to  show  both  the 
infatuation  and  the  atrocity  of  rebellions  in  college, 
than  recurring  to  the  origin  of  most  of  them.  A 
great  majority  of  them  arise  from  a  desire  on  the 
part  of  students,  otherwise  orderly,  to  shield  from 
merited  discipline  the  corrupt  and  profligate  of 
their  fellows.  A  few,  perhaps,  of  the  unprincipled 
and  habitually  disorderly  students  have  justly  in- 
curred the  infliction  of  severe  discipline — suspension 
— or  expulsion  from  the  institution.  The  delin- 
quents have,  it  may  be,  some  talents,  much  im- 
pudence—and that  desperate  recklessness  which 
makes  them  anxious,  if  they  must  go,  to  have  com- 
panions both  in  crime  and  in  sufiering.  A  number 
of  their  fellow  students — perhaps  a  large  number 
— are  fools  enough  to  be  made  the  dupes  of  these 
profligates;  to  make  a  common  cause  with  them; 
and  to  resolve  to  share  their  fate.  The  conse- 
quence is,  that  they  do  share  their  fate.  All  that 
belong  to  the  combination  are  sent  away  from  col- 
lege; and  are  so  far  from  gaining  the  end  for  which 
they  combined,  that  the  result  is  permanent  and 
hopeless  disgrace.     Such  is  the  usual  history,  and 


REBELLIONS.  115 

such  the  invariable  result  of  college  rebellions.  In 
a  few  instances  the  loss  of  life,  either  to  some  of 
the  rebels,  or  of  the  faculty,  has  been  the  deplora- 
ble consequence. 

Now,  in  this  whole  matter,  there  is  an  amount 
of  complicated  folly  and  wickedness  which  it  is  not 
easy  to  measure.  For,  in  the  first  place,  as  to  the 
original  offenders,  in  whose  behalf  all  this  mischief 
has  been  perpetrated,  they  are  commonly  profligate 
villains,  who  ought  not  to  belong  to  any  decent  in- 
stitution, and  whose  defence,  in  any  form,  is  in- 
famy; villains,  who,  instead  of  being  undeservedly 
or  too  hastily  visited  with  discipline,  ought  perhaps, 
long  before  to  have  been  sent  off  in  disgrace.  In 
the  second  place,  every  step  taken  by  this  combina- 
tion is  a  high-handed  and  peculiarly  criminal  opposi- 
tion, not  only  to  the  laws  which  its  members  are 
bound  to  obey,  but  to  a  faculty,  as  it  were,  in  mass, 
who  are  labouring  day  and  night  to  promote  their 
welfare,  and  who  are  individually  and  collectively 
distressed  by  the  insubordination.  And  in  the  third 
place,  it  is  an  act  of  wanton  and  voluntary  suicide. 
Those  who  combine  and  make  a  common  cause 
with  the  original  delinquents,  plunge  into  the  gulf, 
for  the  sake  of  those  who  have  neither  generosity 
nor  honesty  enough  to  thank  them  for  the  sacrifice, 
and  thus,  perhaps,  destroy  all  their  own  prospects 
for  Hfe,  besides  inflicting  a  wound  on  the  hearts 


116  REBELLIONS. 

I 

of  parents  or  guardians  which  can  never  be  healed 
on  this  side  of  the  grave. 

Nor  is  this  all.  No  one  can  tell,  when  he  con- 
nects himself  with  a  scene  of  this  kind,  but  that  it 
may  terminate,  as  was  before  intimated,  in  the  loss 
of  life.  Many  months  have  not  elapsed,  since,  in 
a  rebellion  which  took  place  in  the  university  of 
a  neighbouring  state,  a  beloved  and  highly  valued 
professor  lost  his  life  by  the  murderous  hand  of  a 
profligate  student:  and  how  often  the  most  valuable 
lives  have  been  put  in  imminent  danger  in  similar 
scenes  of  insubordination  and  violence,  he  who  is 
even  tolerably  acquainted  with  their  history  well 
knows.  How  infatuated,  then,  as  well  as  criminal, 
must  be  that  youth  who  allows  himself  to  engage 
in  a  plan  of  resistance  to  lawful  authority,  which 
he  cannot  but  know  may  terminate  in  the  destruc- 
tion of  his  own  life,  or  in  that  of  one  or  more  other 
individuals,  a  thousand  times  more  precious  to  their 
friends  and  to  the  community  than  his  own! 

The  following  statement,  perfectly  in  point,  can- 
not fail  of  commanding  the  most  respectful  consi- 
deration from  every  reader  who  knows  the  high 
character  of  the  writer,  and  who  recollects  that  he 
speaks  on  this  subject  from  the  most  ample  expe- 
rience. The  venerable  writer  speaking  of  himself, 
says: — 

"  At  the  age  of  seventeen,  he  left,  for  the  first 
time,  the  house  of  the  best  of  mothers,  to  go  to 


REBELLIONS.  117 

Princeton  College;  and  with  the  sincerest  resolution 
to  fulfil  all  her  anxious  wishes  in  his  behalf.     To- 
wards the  close  of  the  first  session,  some  very- 
unworthy  young  men  were  dismissed.     They  con- 
trived, however,  to  impose  upon  the  great  body  of 
the  others,  and  to  induce  them  to  believe  that  they 
were   most   unjustly  and  cruelly  treated.     What 
was  called  a  petition  was  gotten  up  in  their  behalf, 
and  offered  for  the  signatures  of  the  rest.     Great 
numbers  signed  it,  scarce  knowing  its  contents.    It 
proved  to  be  such  a  one  as  the  faculty  could  not 
with  propriety  listen  to,  or  allow  to  pass  unnoticed. 
We  were  required  to  withdraw  our  signatures;  and 
it  was  so  managed  by  the  leaders  of  the  rebellion, 
that  the  college  was  broken  up  in  confusion,  and 
all  returned  home.     It  was  then  that  I  felt  the  ex- 
cellence of  maternal  authority,  which  great  num- 
bers felt  not,  for  they  did  not  return.     My  excellent 
mother,  though  mild,  yet  firm,  as  she  was  wont  to 
be,  bade  me  go  back,  and  make  atonement  for  the 
evil  committed.     And  I  went,  and  confessed  my 
fault,  and  still  live,  to  exhort  other  parents,  and 
other  sons  to  'go  and  do  likewise.'     As  a  warning 
to  the  young  men  of  our  land,  let  me  say,  that  it 
required  nearly  thirty  years  to  repair  the  injury 
done  to  that  institution,  by  that  proceeding  of  un- 
reflecting and   misguided  youths.     Let  me  warn 
them  to  beware  how  they  ever  assemble  together 
for  the  purpose  of  consulting  how  to  redress  the 


118  REBELLIONS. 

supposed  wrongs  of  their  fellow  students;  and, 
above  all,  how  they  set  their  names  to  any  instru- 
ment purporting  to  be  a  condemnation  of  those  in 
authority.  Very  seldom,  indeed,  will  the  Faculty 
mistake  in  their  judgments  concerning  those  who 
are  the  subjects  of  discipline.  All  of  those  for 
whom  the  petition  alluded  to  was  offered,  proved 
to  be  most  unworthy  characters;  and  in  my  many 
and  extensive  journeys,  throughout  the  length  and 
breadth  of  our  land,  since  that  time,  I  have  met 
with  very  many  of  those  who  were  most  zealous 
in  the  cause,  but  never  loith  one  luho  did  not  con- 
demn and  regret  the  part  which  he  had  taken  in 
it.''* 

Such  is  the  faithful  testimony  of  an  eye  and  ear 
witness,  nay  of  a  deep  temporary  partaker  in  the 
evil  deplored.  I  also,  though  never,  at  any  period 
of  my  college  course,  a  participant  in  such  a  scene, 
can  bear  testimony  equally  explicit,  and  to  the 
same  amount.  My  observation,  in  all  cases,  goes 
to  establish  the  following  points: 

1.  I  have  never  known  the  rebels  to  carry  their 
point;  that  is,  I  have  never  known  an  instance  in 
which  they  gained  the  object  for  ivhich  they  com- 
bined. One  of  the  laws  of  our  college  is  in  the  fol- 
lowing words: 

»  "  Religious  Education,"  a  tract  by  the  Right  Rev.  William 
Meade,  Bishop  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in  the  diocese 
of  Virginia. 


REBELLIONS.  119 

"  If  any  clubs  or  combinations  of  the  students 
shall  at  any  time  take  place,  either  for  resisting  the 
authority  of  the  college,  interfering  in  its  govern- 
ment, or  for  executing  or  concealing  any  evil  or 
disorderly  design,  every  student  concerned  in  such 
combination,  shall  be  considered  as  guilty  of  the 
offence  which  was  intended;  and  the  faculty  are 
empowered  and  directed  to  break  up  all  such  com- 
binations as  soon  as  discovered,  and  to  inflict  a 
severer  punishment  on  each  individual  than  if  the 
oflfence  intended  had  been  committed  in  his  indivi- 
dual capacity,  whatever  may  be  the  number  con- 
cerned, or  whatever  may  be  the  consequence  to  the 
college." 

This  law,  as  far  as  my  knowledge  extends,  has 
been  uniformly  acted  upon  in  our  college.  In  two 
instances,  within  my  recollection,  it  became  neces- 
sary to  disband  the  entire  body  of  the  students. 
But  the  rebels  always  went  home  without  attain- 
ing their  object. 

2.  In  almost  all  cases — indeed  I  remember  no 
real  exception — the  leading  rebels  turned  out  not 
only  unworthy,  but  profligate,  degraded  and  miser- 
able. The  proud  contrivers  and  chief  conductors 
of  insurrection  against  college  authority,  may  glut 
their  diabolical  vengeance;  may  give  much  trouble 
to  those  whom  they  dislike;  may  destroy  much 
property;  nay,  may  destroy  life.  But  one  thing  is 
certain— their  own   infamy   is   hopelessly  sealed. 


120  REBELLIONS. 

Their  career  generally  shows  that  the  frowns  of 
man,  and  the  curse  of  God  rest  upon  them  without 
remedy.  If  I  could  but  give  you  the  simple  un- 
varnished history  of  a  few  of  these  mock  heroes, 
after  the  catastrophe  which  led  to  their  expulsion 
from  college,  it  would  stand  in  the  place  of  a  thou- 
sand arguments  against  all  such  wicked  and  insane 
projects. 

3.  I  can  also  verify  the  statement  of  Bishop 
Meade,  that  I  have  never  known  any  student  who 
had  the  remotest  connection  with  any  rebellious 
combination,  who  did  not  afterwards  deeply  regret 
his  conduct,  and  condemn  himself  for  it  without 
reserve. 

4.  Had  you  been  trustees  of  our  college  as  long 
as  I  have  been  (now  between  thirty  and  forty 
years)  you  would  have  been  witnesses  of  some  of 
the  most  painful  conflicts,  connected  with  this  sub- 
ject, which  can  well  be  encountered  by  men  who 
have  a  paternal  feeling  for  the  welfare  of  youth. 
Young  men  who  had  suffered  themselves  to  par- 
take in  the  unlawful  and  disorganizing  combina- 
tions which  have  been  described,  and  had  been 
subjected  to  the  sentence  of  expulsion  from  the  col- 
lege, have  returned,  after  the  lapse  of  twenty  years 
and  more,  and  earnestly  requested— not  indeed  to 
be  received  again  as  students — but  to  have  the  sen- 
tence of  expulsion  revoked,  and  the  painful  record 
of  their  disgrace  borne  by  the  college  records  obli- 


REBELLIONS.  121 

terated.     You  may  well  suppose  that  a  board  made 
up  of  serious  benevolent  men,  ready  to  take  every 
obstacle  which  they  conscientiously  could  out  of 
the  way  of  a  returning  penitent,  would  feel  no  lit- 
tle pain  in  denying  such  a  request  from  one  who 
appeared  to  come  with  a  proper  spirit,  and  who 
had  done  all  he  could  to  atone  for  his  crime  by  the 
sober  and  exemplary  living  of  many  years.     But 
it  was  impossible  to  comply  with  such  a  request. 
As  well  might  a  man  who  had  been  convicted  of 
theft  or  forgery,  by  a  court  of  justice,  twenty  years 
ago,  but  had  ever  since,  after  suffering  the  penalty 
of  the  law,  manifested  a  penitent  and  blameless  life 
— come  and  ask  the  court  to  revoke  its  sentence, 
and  expunge  its  record  of  his  crime  and  conviction. 
The  reply  of  Chief  Justice  Hale,  when  importuned 
to  have  mercy  on  a  weeping  culprit,  was  a  just 
and  noble  one — "While  I  wish  to  show  mercy  to 
him,  I  feel  bound  also  to  have  mercy  on  my  conn- 
try."     What  would  become  of  a  college  which 
should  consent  thus  to  reverse  her  sentences,  and 
whitewash  the  traitors  who  had  striven  to  destroy 
her?     Her  authority  would  soon  be  despised,  and 
her  discipline  a  nullity.    "  The  way  of  transgressors 
is  indeed  hard,"  and  one  of  the  many  proofs  of  this 
is,  that  from  the  bitter  consequences  of  many  sins 
the  culprits  can  never  escape.     Tlie  grave  may  hide 
their  bodies  from  view;  but  the  memory  of  their 
11 


122  REBELLIONS. 

crimes  and  their  shame  will  be  as  imperishable  as 
the  records  of  justice  can  make  them. 

You  are  now,  I  trust,  my  dear  sons,  after  pon- 
dering on  what  has  been  said  on  this  subject,  in 
some  measure  prepared  to  receive  and  profit  by  the 
paternal  counsels  which  naturally  flow  from  the 
foregoing  considerations.     They  are  these: 

1.  Always  take  for  granted  that  the  faculty  are 
right  in  their  requisitions  and  in  their  discipline. 
They  are  commonly  better  informed  than  any  one 
of  the  students,  perhaps  than  all  of  them  put  to- 
gether. They  are /ar  Z>e^/erywc(§-e5  than  the  stu- 
dents can  be,  as  to  what  is  safe  and  proper,  and 
tends  to  the  real  good  of  the  institution.  They  are 
far  more  impartial  than  the  subjects  of  discipline 
are  likely  to  be.  And  they  are  incomparably  more 
attached  to  the  interests  of  the  college,  than  you  or 
any  other  student.  It  will,  therefore,  be,  on  every 
account,  safest  and  wisest  always  to  take  for  granted 
as  a  matter  of  course,  that  they  are  right;  and  that 
you  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  obey.  The  excep- 
tions to  this  fixed  principle  will  ever  be  found  so 
«  few  and  far  between,"  that  it  may  be  safely  as- 
sumed as  a  maxim  that  will  seldom  fail. 

2.  Never  listen  to  the  complaints  or  the  accusa- 
tions of  such  of  your  fellow  students  as  have  been 
visited  with  the  lash  of  discipline.  You  may  rest 
assured  that  nothing  of  this  kind  comes  upon  any 
young  man  without  a  cause.     Turn  away  from  his 


REBELLIONS.  123 

Story.  Encourage  him  not.  Allow  hinri  not  for 
one  moment  to  imagine  that  he  has  gained  either 
your  confidence  or  your  approbation. 

3,  Never  attend  any  meeting  of  students  called 
to  petition  for  a  i^edress  of  grievances  at  the  hand 
of  the  faculty,  unless  it  be,  with  dignified  indepen- 
dence, to  remonstrate  in  toto,  and  on  principle, 
against  the  measure,  A  redress  of  grievances,  if 
such  really  exist,  will  be  much  more  likely  to  be 
obtained  by  the  private  application  of  a  {e\v  orderly 
students,  than  by  a  public  and  noisy  combination. 
Put  your  name  to  no  paper  creating  or  encouraging 
any  such  combination.  It  may  appear  harmless 
and  even  commendable  at  first;  but  you  know  not 
to  what  it  may  grow.  "  The  beginning  of  evil  is 
like  the  letting  out  of  water."     That  which  ap- 

'  peared  in  the  commencement  a  small  and  perfectly 
manageable  rill,  may  soon  become  an  overwhelm- 
ing torrent,  and  bear  away  all  before  it. 

4.  Never  let  it  be  borne  to  future  times  by  the 
records  of  Nassau  Hall,  that  a  son  of  your  parents 
had  affixed  to  his  name  and  to  theirs  the  stigma, 
that  he  had  risen  in  rebellion  against  his  Alma 
Mater,  and  had  suffered  the  only  capital  punish- 
ment which  a  treason  so  base  could  incur — expul- 
sion. 

There  are,  no  doubt,  other  sources  and  forms  of 
rebellion  than  those  which  have  been  specified;  but 
they  may  all  be  reduced  to  the  same  general  prin- 


124  REBELLIONS. 

ciples,  and  may  all  with  propriety  be  treated  in  the 
same  general  manner.  Sometimes  they  originate 
in  dissatisfaction  with  the  diet  in  the  public  refec- 
tory; sometimes  from  the  extent  of  the  lessons 
assigned  to  the  several  classes;  and  again,  at  other 
times,  from  the  refusal  of  some  solicited  privilege 
or  indulgence.  Now  it  would  be  wrong  to  assert 
that  the  faculty  of  any  college  is  infallible,  or  that 
either  their  interdicts  or  their  prescriptions  are  al- 
ways, of  course,  to  be  considered  as  right.  But 
the  fact  is,  that,  even  if,  from  error  in  judgment, 
they  should  sometimes  happen  to  be  wrong,  it  is  a 
much  smaller  evil,  in  practice,  to  assume  that  in 
any  given  case  they  are  right,  and  to  decide  and 
act  accordingly,  than  to  allow  the  students  to  sit 
in  judgment  upon  their  decisions  and  doings,  and 
thus  to  be  judges  and  jurymen  in  their  own  cause. 
The  most  learned  and  conscientious  jurists  presid- 
ing in  a  civil  court,  may  decide  erroneously.  But 
suppose  they  do,  what  is  the  appropriate  remedy? 
To  raise  a  mob  in  the  court-house;  to  explode  gun- 
powder among  the  multitude,  at  the  risk  of  life; 
and  to  destroy  the  chairs,  tables,  and  other  furni- 
ture of  the  building?  Would  any  of  these  either 
rectify  the  error  in  question,  or  promote  the  cause 
of  substantial  justice?  The  very  suggestion  of  such 
a  method  of  redress  is  at  once  contemptible  and 
shocking;  and  those  who  should  resort  to  it,  would 
be  deemed  a  set  of  silly  infatuated  savages.    If  the 


REBELLIONS.  125 

decision  complained  of  is  to  be  reversed,  the  rever- 
sal is  to  be  obtained  by  other  and  more  peaceable 
measures.  All  the  violence  tends  but  to  mischief, 
and  must  be  severely  punished,  or  there  will  be  an 
end  of  order  and  of  justice. 

Precisely  such  are  the  principles  which  ought  to 
be  laid  down  concerning  the  decisions  of  a  college 
faculty.  They  are  probably  right;  but,  whether 
right  or  wrong,  the  very  worst  judges  in  the  case 
are  the  rash,  inexperienced,  and  headstrong  sub- 
jects of  discipline.  If  every  wayward  child  is  per- 
mitted to  review  and  reverse  the  sentences  of  wise 
and  faithful  parents,  it  is  plain  tliat  domestic 
government  and  order  will  soon  cease,  and  all  par- 
ties be  less  safe  and  less  happy.  If  unwise  or 
oppressive  measures  on  the  part  of  the  immediate 
government  of  a  college  are  supposed  by  the  re- 
flecting and  orderly  portion  of  the  pupils  to  exist, 
the  only  measures  which  ought  to  be  thought  of 
are  two;  one,  to  send  a  small  and  respectful  com- 
mittee, made  up  of  two  or  three  of  the  students 
known  to  be  among  the  most  respected  and  con- 
fided in  by  the  faculty,  to  present  the  humble 
statement  and  request  of  the  whole  body;  and  if 
this  be  not  successful,  the  second  step  should  be  to 
appeal  to  the  board  of  trustees.  If  by  neither  of 
these  methods  the  object  of  the  complainants  can 
be  obtained,  the  presumption  is,  either,  that  the 
evils  complained  of  are  imaginary,  or  that,  for  the 
11* 


126  REBELLIONS. 

time  being,  they  do  not  admit  of  a  remedy.  I 
have  no  recollection  of  any  case  in  which  an  ap- 
peal to  the  board  of  trustees  was  followed  with 
success  to  the  appellants.  The  truth  is,  the  faculty 
of  every  college  are  always  under  the  temptation 
to  go  as  far  as  they  possibly  can,  consistently  with 
duty,  to  gratify  the  students.  Their  own  popu- 
larity and  ease  will,  of  course,  in  ordinary  cases, 
induce  to  this.  Seldom  indeed  will  a  calm  and 
impartial  body  of  guardians,  having  nothing  to  do 
with  immediate  instruction,  lean  more  than  they  to 
the  side  of  indulgence. 

There  is  a  species  of  conduct  on  the  part  of 
students  which  sometimes  occurs,  which  may,  per- 
haps, be  as  appropriately  mentioned  in  this  letter 
as  in  any  other.  I  refer  to  the  case  of  those  stu- 
dents who,  in  their  own  estimation,  and  in  that  of 
their  friends,  are  considered  as  having  high  claims 
to  distinguished  rank  in  the  assignment  of  college 
honours:  and  when  honours  adequate  to  their 
expectations  are  not  awarded  to  them,  undertake 
to  resent  it  as  gross  injustice,  and  either  attempt  to 
excite  a  mutiny  in  their  behalf,  or  decline  to  re- 
ceive the  honour  assigned  them,  and  perhaps  even 
refuse  to  speak  at  all  at  the  ensuing  commence- 
ment, and  forfeit  their  graduation  altogether. 
There  is  in  all  this  an  arrogance  and  presumption 
unworthy  of  young  gentlemen  approaching  the  age 
of  manhood.  Who  are  the  best  judges  of  a  student's 


REBELLIONS.  127 

proper  merits  and  rank — himself,  or  the  faculty, 
who  have  been  watching  over  him,  and  labouring 
with  him  for  years?  It  is  very  possible,  indeed, 
that  a  faculty  may  be  guilty  of  great  injustice  in 
this  matter.  From  some  cause,  and  perhaps  not  a 
very  laudable  one,  they  may  award  to  a  candidate 
for  graduation  a  rank  decisively  below  that  to 
which  he  is  fairly  entitled.  But  what  then?  Is  he 
or  the  faculty  the  regularly  constituted  judge  in  the 
case?  Every  one  knows  it  is  tlie  faculty.  Will  he 
be  likely,  then,  to  gain  any  thing  by  resenting  their 
award,  or  refusing  to  submit  to  it?  I  will  not  ven- 
ture to  pronounce  that  no  degree  of  injustice  can 
warrant  a  student  in  refusing  to  submit  to  it.  But  I 
have  no  recollection  of  having  ever  known  such  a 
case.  Amidst  all  the  instances  of  insubordinate 
conduct  on  such  occasions  which  have  come  to  my 
knowledge,  I  have  never  known  one  case  in  which 
the  student  who  adopted  this  course  gained  any 
advantage  by  it.  They  have,  in  every  case,  lost 
the  object  which  they  sought,  and  been  regarded 
by  all  their  enlightened  and  impartial  friends  as 
acting  an  unwise  part. 


128 


LETTER  VII. 

HEALTH. 

"  Non  est  vivere,  sed  valere  vita." 

Mr  Dear  Sons, 

I  NEED  not  say  a  word  to  yon  of  the  value  of 
health.  All  know  it.  All  acknowledge  it.  If  I 
were  to  attempt  formally  to  prove  it,  you  would 
consider  me  as  undertaking  a  needless  task.  And 
yet  a  large  portion  of  mankind,  and  especially  of 
the  young,  appear  to  be  so  unmindful  of  the  value 
of  this  blessing,  and  so  reckless  of  its  preservation, 
that  there  is  hardly  any  subject  in  regard  to  which 
imceasing  lessons  are  more  needed,  or  are  given 
from  time  to  time  with  less  benefit. 

I  once  felt  inclined  to  enter  into  cautions  and 
counsels  on  this  subject  very  much  in  detail;  but  a 
growing  impression  of  the  difficulty  of  doing  jus- 
tice to  it,  and  a  fear  of  doing  mischief  by  multiply- 
ing advices  respecting  it,  induce  me  to  be  much 
more  brief  than  I  originally  intended.  All  that  I 
shall  attempt  is  to  give  a  few  brief  hints,  which  I 


HEALTH.  129 

hope  will  not  be  in  vain;  but  which,  at  the  same 
time,  I  fear  yon  will  not  appreciate  as  you  ought, 
until  the  unhappy  consequences  of  rejecting  them 
shall  practically  impress  them  on  your  minds. 

There  are  two  extremes  on  this  subject  to  which 
young  men  are  prone;  against  both  I  am  earnestly 
desirous  of  guarding  you.  The  one  is  to  imagine 
that  the  citidel  of  their  health  is  impregnable;  that 
no  care  of  it  is  necessary;  that  they  may  take  any 
liberties  with  it,  and  lay  any  burdens  upon  it  that 
they  please.  This  mistake  leads  to  unlimited 
exposure,  and  an  utter  disregard  of  all  care  and 
caution  in  avoiding  the  sources  of  disease.  Hence 
it  has  happened  that  some  of  the  most  Herculean 
young  men  I  have  ever  known  have  been  among 
the  most  short-lived;  simply  because  they  had  so 
much  confidence  in  their  health  and  strength,  and 
were  so  persuaded  that  they  could  bear  any  thing, 
that  they  took  no  care  of  themselves,  until  the 
finest  constitutions  were  wrecked  and  destroyed. 
Some  of  the  most  striking  examples  of  this  have 
occurred  not  only  in  Nassau  Hall,  but  also  in  the 
classes  with  which  you  are  familiar;  examples  to 
which  I  cannot  refer  without  the  most  mournful 
recollections. 

The  other  extreme  to  which  I  alluded  is  that  of 
those  who  imagine  that  great  scrupulousness  of 
attention,  and  the  most  vigilant  care  of  health,  are 
necessary  to  its  preservation:  that  a  multitude  of 


130  HEALTH, 

rigid  cautions;  a  frequent  resort  to  medicine;  guard- 
ing against  all  exposure  to  cold  and  damp  weather; 
close  and  warm  rooms;  much  wrapping  up,  &c. 
&c.  are  indispensable.  The  young  man  who  acts 
upon  this  plan,  will  probably  soon  render  himself 
a  miserable  invalid  for  life,  if  he  do  not  speedily 
cut  short  his  days.  The  truth  is,  that  in  this,  as  in 
a  thousand  other  things,  we  may  err  as  much,  and 
as  fatally,  in  over-doing  as  in  under-doing;  and 
the  path  of  wisdom  is  that  of  a  happy  medium 
between  extremes. 

There  are  some  general  principles  in  the  preser- 
vation of  health,  to  which  I  am  earnestly  desirous 
of  directing  your  attention,  and  which,  when  they 
are  regarded  with  enlightened  and  discriminating 
care,  may  be  considered  as  comprehending  all 
others.  Of  these  general  principles  I  shall  now 
trouble  you  with  only  four,  viz.: — Be  strictly 

TEMTERATE    WITH     REGARD    TO    ALIMENT.       Take, 

every  day,  a  large  amount  of  gentle  exercise. 
CarefuUj''  guard  against  all  intestinal  constipa- 
tion. And  always  avoid  too  much  warmth,  both 
in  your  clothing,  and  your  apartment,  quite  as 
vigilantly  as  you  do  too  much  exposure  to  cold. 
1.  With  regard  to  \\\e  first,  remember  that  tem- 
perate eating  in  you,  is  a  very  different  thing  from 
what  it  is  in  a  day-labourer.  The  latter  may,  in 
common,  safely,  and  even  profitably,  take  two  or 
three  times  the  amount  of  aliment,  that  can  be  ven- 


HEALTH.  131 

tured  upon  by  a  student,  or  by  any  sedentary  per- 
son. If  a  given  portion  of  solid  food  be  found  to 
oppress  you,  gradually  diminish  the  quantity,  care- 
fully watching  the  effect,  until  you  ascertain  the 
quantity  which  is  best  suited  to  your  constitution, 
and  after  taking  which  you  feel  most  vigorous, 
active  and  comfortable,  both  in  body  and  mind.  It 
is  plain  that  this  matter  can  be  regulated  only  by  the 
individual  himself;  and  that  it  requires  daily  watch- 
fulness and  resolution.  Many  students,  I  have  no 
doubt,  injure  their  Iiealth,  and  some  bring  them- 
selves, I  am  persuaded,  to  premature  graves,  by 
over-eating,  as  really  as  others  do  by  over-drinking. 
The  effects  of  the  former  species  of  excess  are  not 
quite  so  mcinifest,  or  quite  so  disreputable,  as  those 
of  the  latter;  but,  in  a  multitude  of  cases,  they  are 
no  less  fatal.  And  especially  ought  this  strict 
guard  as  to  the  quantity  and  quality  of  the  aliment 
taken  to  be  exercised  by  those  who  cannot  be  per- 
suaded to  take  the  requisite  amount  of  bodily  exer- 
cise. To  eat  without  restraint,  while  the  latter  is 
neglected,  is  perfect  madness.  The  answer  of  Sir 
Charles  Scarborough,  physician  to  Charles  J  I.,  to 
one  of  the  courtiers  of  that  monarch,  is  worthy  of 
being  remembered — "You  must  eat  less,  or  take 
more  exercise,  or  take  physic,  or  be  sick."  This 
enlightened  man,  physician  to  a  profligate  king, 
and  a  no  less  profligate  court,  presented  the  only 
alternate  plans  by  which  the  safety  of  our  bodily 


132  HEALTH. 

condition  can  be  secured.  If  I  had  a  thousand 
voices,  I  would  proclaim  this  response  in  every 
college,  and  to  every  studious  young  man  in  the 
land.  However  little  it  may  be  regarded,  the  diet 
of  a  student  is  of  more  importance  than  can  easily 
be  described.  It  ought  always  to  be  simple. 
Luxuries,  and  especially  a  multiplicity  of  artificial 
dishes,  and  the  refinements  of  confectionary,  ought 
to  be  avoided  with  sacred  care.  Dr.  Franklin 
always  lived  on  the  simplest  food,  and  with  the 
strictest  guard  against  every  inordinate  indulgence. 
We  are  also  told  that  his  habit  was  to  go  without 
his  dinner  one  day  in  every  week.  This  he  called 
"  giving  nature  a  holyday;"  that  his  stomach  might 
not  be  injured  by  being  kept  too  constaatly  at  hard 
work. 

If  at  any  time  you  feel  unwell,  stop  eating  luitil 
you  are  better.  This  was  the  practice  of  Bacon, 
of  Napoleon,  and  of  a  host  of  other  eminent  men, 
with  whose  histories  we  are  familiar.  When  they 
were  attacked  with  feverish  feelings,  they  either 
fasted  strictly,  for  twenty-four,  or  even  forty-eight 
hours;  or,  at  any  rate,  took  nothing  but  a  few  spoon- 
fuls of  some  simple  liquid  to  sustain  nature,  and  to 
allay  the  importunity  of  hunger,  until  their  morbid 
sensations  were  removed.  Few  people  are  aware 
that,  when  they  are  sick,  food  does  them  little  or 
no  good,  or  rather  only  adds  to  the  burden  of  the 
febrile  affection.     I  have  no  doubt  that  a  large  por- 


HEALTH.  133 

tion  of  diseases,  and  especially  of  those  which 
attack  the  youthful  frame,  where  there  is  no  mor- 
bid diathesis  of  a  chronic  character,  would  readily 
yield  to  a  day  or  two  of  rigid  fasting  alone.  It  is 
because  few  people  can  endure  the  self-denial  re- 
quisite for  this  purpose,  that  they  prefer  the  removal 
of  their  ailments  by  the  extemporaneous  applica- 
tions of  the  lancet,  or  the  stores  of  the  materia 
medica.  This  is  a  very  impolitic  plan  of  proce- 
dure. It  is  violently  interfering  with  the  regular 
order  of  our  frame,  when  the  vis  medicatrix  na- 
turae, if  left  to  itself,  would  do  the  work  much 
better.  These  remarks  are,  of  course,  not  intended 
to  apply  to  cases  of  violent  attacks  of  inflammatory 
disease,  where  congestion,  or  lesion  in  vital  organs, 
indicated  by  much  pain,  is  to  be  apprehended;  but 
chiefly  to  those  cases  in  which  obscure  feverish 
feelings  indicate  the  approach,  rather  than  the  deci- 
sive onset  of  disease.  In  cases  which  mark  the 
approach,  or  the  actual  attack  of  acute  disease, 
medical  advice  ought  to  be  sought  without  loss  of 
time. 

2.  The  importance  of  taking  a  large  portion  of 
gentle  exercise  every  day,  can  scarcely  be  over- 
rated. Every  student  who  wishes  to  preserve  good 
health  and  spirits,  ought  to  be  moving  about  in  the 
open  air  from  three  to  four  hours  daily.  You 
may  live  with  less,  and,  possibly,  enjoy  tolerable 
health.  But  if  you  wish  fully  to  possess  the  moia 
12 


134  HEALTH. 

Sana  in  corpore  sano,  of  which  the  Latin  poet 
speaks,  rely  upon  it,  with  most  students,  less  will 
not  answer.  I  have  said  that  your  exercise  ought 
to  be  gentle.  Some  students,  after  exhausting 
themselves  by  a  protracted  period  of  severe  study 
of  some  hours,  start  from  their  seats,  issue  forth, 
and  engage  in  some  violent  exercise,  which  throws 
them  into  a  profuse  perspiration,  from  which  they 
can  scarcely  escape  with  impunity.  In  many 
such  cases,  they  had  much  better  have  continued 
to  sit  still.  After  coming  to  a  pause  in  my  exer- 
tion, and  resuming  my  seat,  I  have  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  avoid  taking  cold,  unless  I  would  continue 
the  perspiration,  or  the  state  of  temperature  ap- 
proaching it,  by  wrapping  myself  up  in  a  cloak, 
and  remaining  so  until  the  perspiration  had  entirely 
subsided.  This  is  a  precaution  which  is  trouble- 
some, and  will  be  submitted  to  by  few. 

Your  exercise  ought  to  bear  a  strict  proportion 
to  your  constitution  and  your  habits.  Gentle  ex- 
ercise, diffused  through  three  or  four  hours,  is  much 
better  adapted  to  a  sedentary  man  than  a  concen- 
tration of  the  same  amount  of  muscular  motion, 
within  a  single  hour  or  less.  It  is  also  worthy  of 
remark,  that  exercise  taken  either  immediately 
before,  or  immediately  after  eating,  is  both  less 
comfortable,  and  less  valuable,  than  if  at  least  an 
hour  of  rest  be  suffered  to  intervene.  No  prudent 
traveller  will  feed  his  horse  immediately  after  his 


HEALTH.  135 

arrival  at  the  place  of  baiting;  or,  if  he  can  avoid 
it,  put  him  on  the  road  again  as  soon  as  he  has 
swallowed  his  food.  The  same  principle  applies 
to  all  animal  nature. 

But  there  is  a  class  of  cases  in  regard  to  exercise 
to  which  a  special  reference  ought  to  be  made  here. 
Sometimes  young  men  come  to  college  who  have 
been  accustomed  to  active,  and,  it  may  be,  to 
laborious  lives  in  the  pure  air  of  the  country,  and 
who  commence  study  with  firm  and  florid  health. 
Scarcely  any,  in  this  situation,  are  fully  aware  of 
the  danger  they  encounter  in  sitting  down  to  close 
intellectual  application.  I  have  often  known  a 
constitution  the  most  robust,  suddenly  to  give  way, 
in  six  or  nine  months  after  this  change  of  habit, 
and  become  utterly  broken  and  prostrated.  The 
truth  is,  a  young  man  of  the  most  robust  and  florid 
health,  who  addresses  himself  suddenly  to  a  season 
of  close  study,  is  more  apt — contrary  to  the  com- 
mon impression — far  more  apt  to  suff'er  severely 
from  close  mental  and  sedentary  occupation,  than 
one  of  a  more  lax  fibre,  and  long  accustomed  to 
study.  I  can  call  to  mind  some  of  the  most  melan- 
choly examples  of  this  fact,  in  which  from  not  being 
apprised  of  the  principle  which  it  involves,  the 
calamity  came  on  almost  with  the  suddenness  and 
violence  of  a  whirlwind,  before  the  sufferers  were 
aware. 

3.  My  third  advice  has  a  respect  to  intestinal 


J50  HEALTH. 

constipation.     There  can  be  no  health,  where  this 
is  suffered  long  to  continue.     And  yet  it  is  a  point 
to  which  few  inexperienced  students  are  as  atten- 
tive as  they  ought  to  be.     They  either  neglect  it, 
until  a  decisive   indisposition  convinces  them  of 
their  folly;  or  they  are  very  frequently  endeavour- 
ing to  remove  it  by  the  use  of  medicine.     Both 
methods  of  treating  the  difficulty  are  miserably  ill- 
judged.     Medicine  ought  to  be  the  last  resort;  and 
is  seldom  necessary,  unless  where  there  has  been 
great  mismanagement.     Gentle  exercise,  abstemi- 
ousness, and  the  judicious  use  of  mild  dietetical 
aperients,  (which  are  different  with  different  peo- 
ple, and  must  be  matter  of  experiment,)  form  the 
system  which  a  little  experience  will  show  you  to 
be  the  best.     If,  instead  of  this  course,  3'^ou  go  on 
eating  as  usual,  and  adhere  as  closely  to  your  seat 
as  at  other  times,  you  will  probably  not  escape  a 
serious  indisposition. 

4.  The  temperature  of  your  room,  and  of  your 
body,  is  the  last  of  the  general  principles  in  refer- 
ence to  health  to  which  I  shall  request  your  atten- 
tion. A  student,  whose  robustness  is  almost  always 
in  some  degree  impaired  by  sedentary  habits,  ought 
never  to  allow  himself,  if  he  can  avoid  it,  to  sit  in 
a  cold  room,  or  in  a  current  of  cold  air.  I  think  I 
have  known  some  young  persons  to  contract  fatal 
diseases  by  inadvertently  allowing  themselves  to 
occupy  such  a  situation  even  for  a  short  time, 


HEALTH.  137 

especially  when  heated.  But  it  is  nearly,  if  not 
quite,  as  unfriendly  to  health,  for  a  student  to  allow 
himself  to  be  overheated,  either  by  the  atmosphere 
of  a  room  excessively  warmed,  or  by  too  great  a 
load  of  clothing,  either  in  bed  or  out  of  it.  Every 
thing  of  this  kind  ought  to  be  carefully  avoided. 
So  far  as  my  own  experience  goes,  I  am  con- 
strained to  say,  that  excessive  heat  has  been  quite 
as  often,  to  me,  the  source  of  disease,  as  excessive 
cold.  He  who  is  about  to  take  a  long  walk,  in  the 
course  of  which  he  has  an  opportunity  of  keeping 
himself  warm  by  constant,  vigorous  motion,  ought 
just  as  carefully  to  avoid  covering  himself  with  an 
overcoat  while  his  walk  continues,  as  he  ought  to 
be  to  avoid  sitting  in  a  cold  place,  or  in  a  draft  of 
air,  at  the  end  of  his  walk,  without  it.  No  cere- 
mony'',— no  consideration  whatever  ought  to  pre- 
vent his  avoiding  such  a  place,  in  such  circum- 
stances, with  the  most  scrupulous  decision. 

You  will  gather  from  the  foregoing  remarks,  that 
my  plan  for  preserving  health,  is  by  no  means  that 
of  tampering  with  medicines,  or  of  perpetual  nurs- 
ing, or  wrapping  up,  and  avoiding  the  open  air; — 
a  plan  much  more  likely  to  make  a  valetudinarian, 
than  a  man  of  good  health;  but  that  of  employing 
wisely  and  vigilantly  the  great  art  of  prevention. 
Those  who  are  already  favoured  with  good  health, 
and  a  sound  constitution,  ought  to  study  to  retain 
these  blessings,  by  avoiding  every  species  of  excess, 
12* 


13S  HEALTH. 

and  by  guarding  against  every  approach  to  a  de- 
rangement of  the  system;  and,  under  the  blessing 
of  God,  all  will  be  well. 

But  while  I  give  these  counsels  in  regard  to  the 
general  health,  I  feel  that  there  is  no  less  need  of 
some  advices  concerning  particular  organs  of  the 
body  which  are  exceedingly  apt  to  suffer  from  the 
want  of  skill  or  attention  in  their  management. 

There  is  no  organ  of  the  human  body  more  apt 
to  become  disordered  by  indiscreet  or  careless  use 
than  the  eyes.  What  with  protracted  night  stu- 
dies, the  unskilful  use  of  candle  and  lamp  light ^ 
the  reading  of  much  small  and  indistinct  print, 
and  the  prolonged  and  overstrained  application  of 
the  eyes  in  any  way,  they  are  so  much  injured  by 
many  students  before  they  leave  college,  that  they 
are,  in  a  great  measure,  disabled  from  the  enjoy- 
ment of  study  for  the  remainder  of  their  lives.  It 
is  well  known  that  the  justly  celebrated  Presi- 
dent D wight,  by  the  excessive  use  of  his  eyes  by 
candle-light,  while  he  was  in  college,  brought  on 
a  disease  of  that  organ  from  which  he  never 
recovered,  which  gave  him  much  pain,  and  com- 
pelled him  to  employ  the  eyes  of  others  in  a  large 
part  of  the  studies  of  his  subsequent  life. 

In  regard  to  this  subject  I  would  earnestly  re- 
commend to  your  attention  the  following  counsels. 

Avoid  as  much  as  you  possibly  can  studying  by 
candle-light.     Begin  your  studies  with  the  dawn  of 


HEALTH.  139 

day,  and  improve  every  moment  of  day-light  that 
you  can  secure.  Study  at  a  late  hour  at  night 
ought  never  to  be  indulged  by  any  one  who  values 
his  health.  Two  hours  sleep  before  midnight,  are 
worth  three  if  not  four  after  it.  He  who  allows 
himself  frequently  to  remain  at  his  studies  after  ten 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  is  probably  laying  up  in 
store  for  himself  bitter  repentance. 

Further,  beware,  in  night  studies,  of  the  use  of 
such  lamps,  or  other  lights,  as,  by  means  of  reflec- 
tors, pour  an  intense  light  on  your  book  or  paper. 
Lamps  or  other  lights  of  this  kind,  furnished  with 
shades,  while  they  undoubtedly  shield  the  eyes 
from  injury,  by  the  direct  rays  of  light,  which  is 
the  object  aimed  at,  are  apt  to  do  much  more  in- 
jury, by  rendering  the  reflected  light  more  vivid 
and  dazzling.  In  fact,  instead  of  protecting  or 
favouring  the  eyes,  they  are  apt  to  impair  the 
soundest  vision,  and  have  proved  in  many  cases 
extremely  hurtful.  If  a  shade  be  used  at  all,  it 
ought  not  to  be  placed  on  the  lamp  or  candlestick 
itself,  for  the  purpose  of  casting  the  light  down 
with  more  intensity;  but  on  the  forehead  of  the 
student,  merely  to  prevent  the  direct  rays  of  light 
from  striking  on  his  eyes.  Indeed  a  common  hat 
Itself  would  be  one  of  the  best  screens  with  which 
to  read  or  write  at  night,  were  it  not  for  the  danger 
of  keeping  the  head  too  warm,  and  thus  laying  the 
foundation  of  various  countervailing  evils.     This  is 


140  HEALTH. 

mentioned  only  for  the  purpose  of  pointedly  warn- 
ing against  it.  A  very  light  shade  made  to  fasten 
over  the  eyes,  without  covering  the  head,  would 
be  in  every  respect  preferable. 

Let  me  advise  you  to  do  all  your  loritng  in  a 
standing  posture.  This  has  been  my  own  con- 
stant practice  for  nearly  fifty  years;  and  I  am  con- 
strained, from  ample  experience,  to  recommend  it 
as  attended  with  many  advantages.  If  you  write 
at  a  common  table,  the  probabihty,  and  certainly 
the  danger  is,  that  you  will  contract  a  crooked, 
half-bent  mode  of  sitting,  which  will  materially 
injure  your  health.  Writing  chairs  are  very  much 
in  vogue  with  many  students.  But,  if  I  am  not 
greatly  deceived,  they  are  pestiferous  things,  which 
do  ten  times  as  much  harm  as  good.  It  is  almost 
impossible  to  write  on  them  without  incurring  an 
unequal  and  mischievous  pressure  on  one  side. 
Indeed  a  gentleman  of  much  experience  and  care- 
ful observation  lately  assured  me  that  he  had  pro- 
cured almost  the  entire  banishment  of  such  chairs 
from  an  important  literary  institution  with  which 
he  was  connected,  on  account  of  the  serious  mis- 
chief which  he  found  them  to  produce  to  the  per- 
sons and  general  health  of  the  students.  If  you 
write  standing,  and  guard  against  pressing  the 
breast  bone  on  the  edge  of  the  desk,  but  rest  alto- 
gether on  your  arms,  I  am  persuaded  you  will  find 
it  a  method  attended  with  fewer  inconveniences 


HEALTH.  141 

and  dangers  than  any  other.  On  this  plan,  no  part 
of  the  body  is  in  a  constrained  posture,  and  the 
circulation  is  wholly  unobstructed.  Besides,  if  you 
read  sitting,  as  most  people  do,  it  will  create  an 
agreeable  variety  if  you  rise  when  you  begin  to 
xorite. 

Pay  particular  attention  to  your  teeth.  By  this 
I  do  not  mean  that  you  sh'ould  be  continually  going 
to  the  dentist;  and  far  less  that  you  should  abound 
in  applications  to  the  teeth  of  various  tooth-pow- 
ders, which  too  commonly  partake  of  acid  qualities, 
which  cannot  fail  of  corroding,  and,  of  course,  in- 
juring them.  I  believe  that,  in  most  cases,  apply- 
ing a  little  clean  water,  in  which  a  small  portion  of 
common  salt  has  been  dissolved,  with  a  soft  brush, 
to  the  teeth,  on  rising  in  the  morning,  and  just  be- 
fore retiring  to  rest  at  night,  will  be  quite  sufficient 
to  preserve  a  pure  and  healthful  state  of  the  mouth. 
The  evils  arising  from  the  neglect  or  mismanage- 
ment of  the  teeth  are  not  only  numerous,  but  most 
serious.  Diseased  gums  and  teeth;  fetid  breath; 
toothache;  early  loss  of  teeth,  interfering  with  the 
mastication  of  food;  and  destroying  the  power  of 
distinct  articulate  speech,  are  among  the  natural 
and  inevitable  results.  Often,  very  often,  have  I 
seen  fine  young  men,  who  had  originally  strong 
and  beautiful  sets  of  teeth,  from  gross  negligence, 
or  from  unhappy  management,  presenting  diseased 
and  offensive  mouths  before  they  were  twenty-five, 


142  HEALTH. 

and  obliged  to  come  forward,  to  the  pulpit  or  the 
bar,  with  months  full  of  substitutes  provided  by  the 
dentist,  which,  though  exceedingly  valuable,  are 
both  defective  and  troublesome. 

In  my  letter  on  temperuiice,  I  have  dwelt  largely 
on  the  importance  of  that  virtue  to  health,  and 
earnestly  hope  that  my  sons  will  seriously  regard 
my  counsels  on  this  subject,  for  the  sake  of  their 
physical,  as  well  as  their  moral  welfare.  But  there 
are  various  stimulants  beside  strong  drink,  against 
which  I  would  put  you  on  your  guard.  The 
moderate  use  of  common  salt  is,  I  believe,  gene- 
rally considered,  by  wise  physiologists,  as  indis- 
pensable to  the  healthful  condition  of  animal  life; 
and  it,  therefore,  ought  to  enter,  under  proper  regu- 
lation, into  our  daily  food.  But  this  regulation  is 
exceedingly  important.  The  excessive  use  of  this 
article  has  led  to  serious  evils,  and  must  be  con- 
sidered as  highly  insalubrious.  I  dislike  to  see 
young  persons  using  mustard,  pepper,  and  espe- 
cially cayenne  pepper,  as  necessary  to  give  their 
food  an  acceptable  relish.  All  these  things,  to- 
gether with  the  pungent  oriental  soys,  and  pickles, 
I  would  advise  you  never  to  use;  or  at  any  rate 
never  to  use  them  habitually  or  UeoXy.  They  are 
all  stimulants,  and  some  of  them  highly  stimulating 
in  their  character;  and,  of  course,  their  tendency  is 
largely  to  expend  the  sensorial  power  of  the  human 
system,  and  prematurely  to  wear  out  the  vital  prin- 


HEALTH.  143 

ciple.  Perhaps  it  may  be  said  that  some  very 
pleasant  dishes  require  condiaients  of  this  kind  to 
assist  digestion  and  render  them  safely  eatable. 
Bnt  snrely,  every  wise  student,  if  he  values  his 
constitution,  and  desires  to  enjoy  comfortable  health, 
will  rather  abstain  from  dishes  which  require  a  very 
vigorous  stomach  to  digest,  than  resort  to  violent 
and  injurious  means  for  rendering  them  harmless. 

The  ways  in  which  young  men  in  college  en- 
danger their  health  are  so  numerous,  that  it  is 
difficult  to  go  sufficiently  into  detail  to  meet  all 
cases.  But  there  is  one  habit  so  replete  with  dan- 
ger, and  yet  so  common  that  I  feel  constrained  to 
single  it  out  for  warning, — I  mean  the  practice  of 
sitting,  and  especially  lying  on  the  damp  ground, 
in  warm  weather; — a  practice  from  which  severe 
diseases,  and  the  loss  of  life  have  often  been  de- 
rived. It  is  indeed  wonderful  that  thinking  youth 
are  so  often  found  indulging  in  this  perilous  impru- 
dence. 

Lying  long  in  bed  in  the  morning  is  very  un- 
friendly to  health  and  long  life.  It  is  at  once  a 
symptom  and  a  cause,  of  feeble  digestion,  of  ner- 
vous debility,  and  of  general  languor.  Whereas 
early  rising  is  commonly  connected  with  sound 
sleep,  with  elasticity  of  body  and  mind,  and  with 
habits  of  activity,  which  are  greatly  conducive  both 
to  health  and  comfort.  Nor  is  this  practice  less 
conducive  to  success  in  mental  improvement.     It 


144  HEALTH. 

not  only  tends  to  give  a  daily  spring  to  the  mind, 
but  also  to  make  a  very  important  addition  to  the 
studying  hours  of  the  student,  and  to  promote  long 
life.  It  was  the  remark,  if  I  mistake  not,  of  the 
celebrated  Lord  Mansfield,  that  illustrious  English 
judge,  that  among  all  the  very  aged  men  whom  he 
had  been  called  to  examine  in  his  court,  he  could 
not  recollect  one  that  was  not  an  early  riser. 

I  have  only  one  advice  more  to  offer  in  regard 
to  your  health.  It  is  that  you  never  pursue  your 
studies  to  the  length  oi  exhaustion;  that  you  never 
urge  yourselves  to  the  fulfilment  of  a  prescribed 
task  when  sickness  renders  all  mental  effort  pain- 
ful and  oppressive.  By  such  pressure  tiie  mind  is 
jaded  and  injured,  and  no  valuable  acquisition  can 
be  made.  It  is  not  only  up-hill  work;  but  any  real 
progress,  in  these  circumstances,  is  seldom  made. 
In  all  mental  efforts  it  is  best  to  leave  off  before 
reaching  the  point  of  fatigue.  When  we  go  on  be- 
yond that  point,  we  may  be  said,  in  general,  to  lose 
more  than  we  gain. 


145 


LETTER    VIII. 

TEMPERANCE. 

naf  if  0  iyxitl^OfXtvoc,  irivra  fyxjaTEu'jxai. —  1  Cor,  ix.  25. 

Mr  Dear  Sons, 

You  will,  perhaps,  ask,  why  I  devote  a  whole 
letter  to  the  subject  of  temperance,  when  I  have 
already  employed  one  in  relation  to  morals  in 
general,  which  might  be  supposed  to  include  the 
whole  department  of  duty  to  which  it  belongs?  I 
reply,  that  I  regard  the  subject  of  strict  temperance 
as  so  deeply  interesting,  so  vital  to  the  physical 
well-being,  as  well  as  to  the  moral  welfare,  and 
true  honour  of  a  student,  that  I  consider  no  method 
of  making  it  prominent,  and  of  adding  to  its  im- 
pressiveness  in  this  code  of  counsels  as  going 
beyond  its  unspeakable  importance. 

I  scarcely  ever  think  of  exhorting  young  men  on 
the  subject  of  temperance,  without  recollecting  an 
occurrence  in  my  native  town,  more  than  half  a 
century  ago,  which  conveyed  a  lesson  to  me  at 
once  striking  and  solemn.  A  father  who  had 
13 


146        I  TEMPERANCE. 

found  a  son  of  eighteen  or  nineteen  years  of  age 
disorderly  and  unmanageable,  proposed  to  place 
him  under  the  care  and  government  of  a  friend 
at  some  distance,  who  had  a  high  reputation  for 
skill  and  energy  in  managing  disorderly  and  vicious 
young  men.  When  the  father  appeared  before 
this  friend  with  his  dissipated  and  intractable  son, 
he  thought  himself  bound,  both  in  duty  and  policy, 
to  disclose  all  the  principal  faults  with  which  his 
son  was  chargeable,  without  disguise  or  softening. 
He  began,  by  saying, "  My  son  is  in  grain  lazy, 
and  cannot  be  prevailed  upon  by  any  influence 
that  I  can  employ  to  pursue  any  occupation."  "I 
am  sorry  to  hear  it,"  said  his  friend,  "but  I  have 
been  able  to  reclaim  many  a  youth  from  habits  of 
inveterate  idleness."  Again,  said  the  father,  "My 
son  is  grievously  profane,  and  has  given  me  much 
distress  by  his  impious  language."  "  That  is  bad," 
said  the  friend,  "but  I  do  not  despair  of  curing  him 
of  that  fault,  distressing  as  it  may  be."  "  That  is  not 
all,"  said  the  father;  "  he  will  lie,  notwithstanding 
all  that  I  can  do  to  show  him  the  sin  and  the  dis- 
grace of  that  practice."  "  That  is,  indeed,  a  dread- 
ful fault,"  said  the  friend,  "  but  there  is  hope  of 
reclaiming  him  even  from  that  habit,  vile  and  de- 
grading as  it  undoubtedly  is."  "  I  have  one  more 
of  his  faults  to  mention,"  said  the  father.  "He  has 
lately  manifested  a  fondness  for  strong  drink,  and, 
when  intoxicated,  has  given  me  much  trouble." 


TEMPERANCE.  147 

"Ah,  is  it  indeed  so?"  said  the  friend— "  then  there 
is  no  hope  for  him!  You  must  take  him  away.  I 
can  do  him  no  good.  He  will  never  be  cured  of  that 
vice."  This  case  actually  happened.  The  result 
was  as  predicted.  The  unhappy  young  man  was 
taken  home  again;  became  more  and  more  sottish; 
and  not  long  afterwards  died  a  miserable  drunkard, 
the  grief  and  disgrace  of  his  family.  And  such,  I 
am  persuaded,  will  very  seldom  fail  to  be  the 
case  with  a  youthful  tippler.  Perhaps,  indeed,  my 
countryman,  in  pronouncing  concerning  the  son  of 
his  friend,  that  he  would  never  reform,  was  rather 
too  prompt  and  summary  in  his  sentence.  I  will 
not  say  that  the  recovery  of  a  youth  from  that  vice 
is  in  no  case  to  be  hoped  for.  We  have  reason  to 
be  thankful  that  such  a  favourable  event  has  some- 
times occurred.  Nay,  among  the  late  triumphs  of 
the  temperance  cause,  we  have  seen  cases  of  such 
reformation  occurring  much  more  frequently  than 
in  former  times.  Still,  of  all  sinners  I  am  inclined 
to  think  that  the  lover  of  intoxicating  drinks  is 
among  the  most  hopeless.  It  is  for  this  reason 
that  I  call  your  attention  to  the  subject  of  temper- 
ance, with  all  the  emphasis  and  solemnity  of 
which  I  am  capable;  and  would  say  in  the  lan- 
guage of  holy  writ — "He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let 
him  hear!" 

I  need  not  remind  you,  my  dear  sons,  that  the 
young  are  peculiarly  apt  to  be  ensnared  and  ruined 


148  TEMPERANCE. 

by  Stimulating  drinks.  They  are  proverbially  fond 
of  company  and  of  excitement;  having  ardent,  and 
too  often  ungovernable  feelings,  with  little  experi- 
ence, and  a  proneness  to  reject  the  counsels  of  age 
and  wisdom,  no  wonder  that  they  are  often  borne 
away  by  the  intoxicating  draught  to  insane  revelry, 
to  ruinous  disorders,  and  to  the  wreck  of  every 
thing  good  for  time  and  eternity.  0,  if  you  had 
known,  as  I  have,  the  mischiefs  generated  in  col- 
leges by  strong  drink;  how  many  amiable  and 
promising  young  men  have  been  led  on  from 
occasional  indulgence  to  abandoned  sottishness; 
and  in  how  many  instances  young  men  of  polished 
manners  have  been  betrayed  by  the  stimulus  of 
drink  into  acts  of  disorder,  and  even  brutal  vio- 
lence, leading  to  their  temporary  suspension  frona 
college,  and  even  to  their  ignominious  expulsion, 
and  final  ruin,  you  would  not  wonder  that  I  speak 
to  you  on  this  subject  with  so  much  earnestness 
and  importunity. 

You  are,  no  doubt,  aware  that  the  laws  of  the 
college  not  only  prohibit  all  intemperate  drinking, 
but  that  they  forbid  every  student  to  keep  in  his 
room  any  ardent  spirits,  or  fermented  liquors  of 
any  kind;  and  that  any  such  article  being  found  in 
the  room  of  a  student,  without  permission,  is  a 
punishable  offence.  When  you  recollect  that  such 
a  law  has  been  framed  and  placed  in  your  code  by 
men  of  wisdom  and  experience,  and  that  it  belongs 


TEMPERANCE.  149 

to  the  system  of  all  colleges,  I  am  persuaded  that 
you  will  regard  it  with  approbation,  as  not  at  all 
needlessly  strict,  and  that  you  will  feel  bound  to 
obey  it  to  the  letter,  and  with  scrupulous  care. 

Do  you  not  know  that  all  alcoholic  and  fer- 
mented liquors,  even  those  of  the  mildest  form 
when  taken  habitually,  ox  even  frequently ,  excite 
the  nervous  system,  and  thus  derange  the  healthy 
action  of  that  system;  that  they  injure  the  tone  of 
the  stomach;  that  they  create  a  craving  thirst, 
which  cannot  be  satisfied  without  an  increase  of 
the  same  potation  which  created  it;  that  they 
slowly  but  radically,  in  most  cases,  affect  the  liver, 
and  lay  the  foundation  of  many  loathsome  and 
fatal  chronic  diseases;  that  when  he  who  is  accus- 
tomed to  the  use  of  stimulating  drinks,  in  any 
degree,  does  become  sick,  his  restoration  to  health 
is  less  probable,  and  even  when  it  is  effected,  more 
slow,  because  his  habit  of  body  interferes  with  the 
operation  of  appropriate  remedies,  rendering  them 
less  active,  and,  of  course,  less  useful?  If  you  are 
not  aware  of  all  these  indubitable  facts,  it  is  high 
time  that  you  should  recognize  and  be  convinced 
of  them,  and  begin  that  system  of  entire  absti- 
nence from  all  stimulating  drink  which  can  alone 
ensure  your  safety. 

Young  men  are  apt  to  imagine  that  they  are  in 
no  danger  from  this  vice.     They  are  eacli  ready  to 
say,  with  the  youthful  and  inexperienced  Syrian 
13* 


150  TEMPERANCE. 

of  old — "What,  is  thy  servant  a  dog  that  he  should 
do  this  thing?"  But  there  is  no  vice  in  the  world 
more  alluring,  more  insidious,  or  more  apt  to  gain 
the  mastery  over  those  who  imagine  themselves  to 
be  in  no  danger  from  its  power.  Strong  drink  of 
any  kind  excites  the  feelings.  This  excitement, 
by  a  well  known  law  of  our  physical  constitution, 
is,  of  course,  followed  by  a  corresponding  nervous 
depression.  This  is  always  more  or  less  painful. 
A  sense  of  physical  want  is  created.  The  tempta- 
tion to  recur  to  the  stimulus  which  produced  the 
preceding  excitement  will  probably  be  too  strong  to 
be  resisted.  Every  successive  repetition  of  the  sti- 
mulus will  increase  the  craving  appetite,  and,  of 
course,  strengthen  the  temptation  to  repeat  from  day 
to  day  the  mischievous  remedy.  Thus  have  thou- 
sands who  never  dreamed  of  being  drunkards,  been 
led  on  from  one  stage  of  indulgence  to  another,  as 
the  ox  is  unconsciously  led  to  the  slaughter— 
"till,"  as  the  wise  man  expresses  it — "a  dart 
strikes  through  his  liver,  and  he  knows  not  that  it 
is  for  his  life."  All  this,  which  applies  to  thou- 
sands who  scarcely  ever  read  a  book,  applies  with 
peculiar  force  to  youthful  students,  who  are  more 
apt  than  others  to  suffer  a  depression  of  animal 
feeling,  and  to  be  betrayed  into  a  love  of  some 
artificial  excitement. 

It  ought  to  be  remembered,  too,  that  the  indul- 
gence in  stimulating  drinks  is  peculiarly  injurious 


TEMPERANCE.  151 

to  the  youthful  frame.  By  this  is  meant  that  habits  • 
of  tippling  commenced  in  early  life,  are  always 
found  to  undermine  the  health,  and  work  their 
usual  mischiefs,  more  speedily  than  when  the  in- 
dulgence is  commenced  in  more  advanced  age. 
In  regard  to  persons  in  middle  life,  and  especially 
still  further  advanced,  when  their  bodies  have 
attained  more  maturity  of  growth,  and  firmness  of 
fibre,  although  the  ravages  made  by  stimulating 
drink  are  deplorably  apparent,  and  finally  fatal; 
yet  it  is  observable  that  the  human  frame,  under 
these  ravages,  bears  up  longer,  and  seems  harder 
to  be  vanquished  than  in  the  more  youthful  sub- 
ject. This  is  more  tender,  more  excitable,  more 
easily  deranged,  and,  of  course,  more  speedily 
prostrated,  than  the  aged  frame.  Accordingly,  it 
has  been  remarked,  by  experienced,  sagacious  ob- 
servers, that  when  a  young  person  of  eighteen  or 
twenty  years  of  age  begins  to  indulge,  even  in  a 
small  degree,  in  strong  drink,  his  bodily  strength 
is  soon  undermined,  and  he  commonly  falls  an 
early  prey  to  the  destroyer. 

Listen,  then,  my  dear  sons,  to  an  affectionate 
father,  when,  with  all  that  earnestness  which  long 
experience  and  deep  conviction  warrant,  he  en- 
treats you  to  eschew  and  avoid  all  use  whatever 
of  stimulating  drinks.  Touch  nothing  of  the  kind 
as  an  ordinary  beverage.  Drink  nothing  but 
water,  and  you  will  be  the  better  for  it  as  long  as 


152  TEMPERANCE.  "* 

you  live.  I  believe  that  intoxicating  drinks  do  not 
help  but  injure  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  out  of 
every  thousand  of  those  who  use  them:  and  that 
their  entire  banishment  from  literary  institutions 
is  so  unspeakably  desirable,  that  it  is  better — far 
better  that  the  thousandth  person  should  suffer  a 
little  for  want  of  them,  than  that  their  disuse  in  all 
colleges  should  not  be  complete. 

These  being  my  views,  it  has  given  me  great 
pleasure  to  learn  that  a  society  has  been  formed  in 
your  college,  embracing  the  pledge  of  "total  ab- 
stinence from  all  that  can  intoxicate."  I  know  that 
some,  both  in  and  out  of  college,  consider  this  as 
a  fanatical  extreme,  and  set  their  faces  against  it. 
This  is  not  my  opinion.  I  am  persuaded  that  Tem- 
perance societies  on  the  "total  abstinence"  plan, 
have  done  much  good,  and  are  likely  to  do  much 
more.  What  though  they  have  been  carried  on  by 
agents  of  suspicious  character,  and  recommended 
by  arguments  of  a  worse  than  suspicious  kind? 
The  best  things  have  been  perverted,  but  ought 
not,  on  that  account,  to  be  disused.  It  is  my 
earnest  advice,  therefore,  that  you  should  become 
members  of  the  society  alluded  to,  and  not  only 
adhere  to  its  pledge  with  sacred  fidelity,  but  en- 
deavour to  promote  its  popularity  and  influence  by 
all  the  means  in  your  power.  True,  indeed,  some 
of  the  advocates  of  "total  abstinence"  urge  their 
doctrine  by  arguments  which  I  can  by  no  means 


TEMPERANCE.  153 

sustain.  They  tell  us  that  the  word  of  God  gives 
no  countenance  to  the  use  of  fermented  wine  in 
any  case  whatever,  and  that  it  is  not  lawful  to  use 
such  wine  at  the  Lord's  table.  In  these  positions 
I  cannot  concur.  They  appear  to  me  unscriptural, 
and,  in  respect  to  the  Lord's  Supper,  directly  to 
set  at  defiance  the  Saviour's  express  command.  I 
can  never  believe  that  He  instituted  an  ordinance 
the  tendency  of  which  is  to  make  men  drunkards. 
Still  so  far  as  the  advocates  of  the  doctrine  in 
question  come  to  the  practical  result,  that  all  per- 
sons in  health  ought  to  abstain  from  all  intoxi- 
cating drink,  as  an  ordinary  beverage,  for  the 
promotion  of  their  own  well-being,  and,  on  the 
principle  of  expediency^  for  discouraging  their  use 
by  others,  I  am  cordially  with  them,  and  sincerely 
wish  that  all  college  students  in  the  land  were 
banded  in  such  associations.  You  know  that  I 
never  set  any  alcoholic  or  fermented  liquors  on  my 
own  table.  This  has  been  my  practice  for  many 
years;  and  I  have  adopted  the  practice  from  a 
conscientious  persuasion  that  my  own  health,  and 
that  of  all  my  family  is  benefited  by  it;  and  also 
from  an  earnest  desire  to  promote  by  my  example, 
the  banishment  of  all  such  drinks  from  all  classes 
of  society.  When  I  see  so  many  around  me, 
young  and  old,  falling  victims  to  the  use  of  such 
drinks;  and  especially  when  I  see  so  many  young 
men  of  the  finest  minds,  and  devoted  to  literary  pur- 


154  TEMPERANCE. 

suits,  led  astray,  and  some  of  them  finally  ruined 
in  body  and  mind  by  this  deceiver,  can  you  won- 
der that  I  am  unable  to  restrain  my  pen  when  the 
subject  is  in  question?  Can  you  consider  any  zeal 
as  excessive  which  contemplates  the  banishment 
of  intoxicating  drinks  in  every  form  from  the  pre- 
cincts of  our  literary  institutions?  As  a  friend  to 
my  species  I  feel  constrained  to  do  all  in  my  power 
to  discourage  the  use  of  this  insidious  poison.  It 
is  no  sacrifice  to  me  to  abstain  from  all  intoxicating 
drinks  myself.  On  the  contrary,  my  firm  persua- 
sion is,  that,  by  this  abstinence,  I  promote  my  own 
present  enjoyment,  and  that  of  my  children.  But 
even  if  it  were  otherwise,  I  should  feel  myself 
abundantly  rewarded  for  the  sacrifice  by  the  con- 
sciousness of  pursuing  a  course  adapted  to  dis- 
courage and  diminish  the  use  of  one  of  the  most 
destructive  agents  that  ever  cursed  the  human 
family.  And  if  I  can  prevail  on  my  children  to 
enter  into  the  spirit  of  this  principle,  and  not  only 
to  begin,  in  the  morning  of  life,  to  restrain  their 
own  appetites,  but  also  to  co-operate  cordially  in  a 
plan  for  the  benefit  of  others,  it  will  afford  me  un- 
speakable gratification  as  a  pledge  that  they  will 
prove  benefactors  to  the  world. 

If  you  desire,  my  dear  sons,  to  avoid  the  degrad- 
ing snare  of  stimulating  drinks,  avoid,  I  beseech 
you,  all  the  company  which  will  be  likely  to  lead 
to  it.     Intemperance  is,  generally,  and  especially  in 


TEMPERANCE.  155 

its  beginnings,  a  social  vice.  As  "one  sinner," 
in  all  the  walks  of  life,  "destroys  much  good;"  so 
it  is  eminently  true,  that  one  votary  of  this  kind 
of  excitement  can  hardly  fail  of  endangering  the 
virtue  of  others.  Fly  from  the  society  of  all  such 
as  you  would  from  the  most  deadly  plague.  If 
you  know  of  any  room  in  which  stimulating  drink 
of  any  kind  is  kept,  avoid  it  as  you  would  the  room 
of  a  counterfeiter,  or  receiver  of  stolen  goods.  If 
you  enter  it,  none  can  tell  what  may  be  the  conse- 
quence. Even  if  you  should  not  be  tempted  to 
partake  of  the  interdicted  draught,  who  can  assure 
you  that  your  character  may  not  be  unexpectedly 
implicated  by  your  being  found  or  seen  in  the  in- 
fected region? 

In  fact,  any  student  of  college  who  finds  the 
stimulus  of  company  necessary  to  his  comfort, 
ought  to  consider  himself  as  on  the  verge  of  a  fatal 
snare.  He  who  cannot  be  comfortable  in  the  retire- 
ment of  his  study;  who  does  not  feel  the  acquire- 
ment of  knowledge  a  rich  gratification,  but  finds 
the  excitement  of  company,  and  the  social  song  in- 
dispensable to  his  enjoyment,  has  the  utmost  reason 
to  be  alarmed  for  his  safety.  The  vital  principle 
of  intemperance  has  already  taken  up  its  abode  in 
his  person,  and,  without  a  miracle,  will  probably 
make  him  its  victim. 

I  should  be  utterly  ashamed,  my  dear  sons,  to 
plead  so  much  at  length,  a  cause  so  plain,  and  so 


156  TEMPERANCE. 

manifestly  important,  and  indeed  vital,  as  that  of 
temperance,  were  it  not  that,  after  all,  some  young 
men  are  so  infatuated,  nay  so  suicidal  as  to  dis- 
regard all  warning,  and  plunge  into  the  gulf  of 
infamy  and  perdition,  in  sight  of  the  many  beacons 
erected  to  guard  them  against  it.  Every  one  who 
has  eyes  to  see,  perceives  that,  when  young  men, 
under  the  excitement  of  company,  have  intoxicat- 
ing drink  within  their  reach,  they  will  seldom  fail 
to  abuse  it.  Every  one  is  forced  to  acknowledge 
that  nine-tenths  of  all  the  disorders  and  crimes  in 
colleges,  as  well  as  in  the  civil  community,  arise 
directly  or  indirectly  from  the  excitement  of  ine- 
briating liquors;  and  yet  young  men,  who  claim  to 
have  both  talents  and  moral  principle,  are  neither 
afraid  nor  ashamed  to  seek  the  intoxicating  cup, 
and  feel  as  if  they  had  gained  a  triumph  when  they 
can  enjoy  the  privilege  of  making  brutes  of  them- 
selves! 

I  will  add  here,  that,  if  you  wish  to  avoid  the 
gulf  of  intemperance,  you  must  by  all  means  avoid 
the  use  of  tobacco  in  any  form.  There  are  few 
things  more  adapted  to  inspire  disgust  on  the  score 
of  manners,  or  deep  apprehension  for  the  future 
welfare  of  young  men,  than  to  see  them  puffing 
their  cigars  in  the  faces  of  all  who  approach  them, 
or  chewing  their  nauseous  quids,  and  squirting 
their  filthy  saliva  in  every  direction.  The  mis- 
chiefs wrought  on  the  human  system  by  this  nar- 


TEMPERANCE.  157 

cotic  weed  are  so  many  and  serious,  that  the  only 
wonder  is,  that  any  intelHgent  young  man,  who 
does  not  wish  to  court  disease  and  danger  should 
allow  himself  to  use  it.  I  do  not  say  that  every 
one  who  uses  it  incurs  the  mischiefs  to  which  I 
refer;  but  I  assert  that  every  one  is  in  danger  of 
incurring  them,  and  that  if  he  escapes,  it  is  not 
owing  to  any  want  of  evil  tendency  in  the  indul- 
gence itself,  but  to  the  favour  of  a  merciful  Provi- 
dence, There  can  be  no  doubt  that  both  chewing 
and  smoking  tobacco,  especially  the  former,  have 
been  the  means  of  making  thousands  of  drunkards. 
Do  you  ask  wherein  consists  the  connection  be- 
tween the  use  of  tobacco  and  the  habit  of  intem- 
perance in  drinking?  I  answer,  much  every  way. 
Do  you  not  know  that  that  filthy  and  pernicious 
weed,  when  either  chewed  or  smoked,  is  a  strong 
exciter  of  the  nervous  system;  and  that,  of  course, 
it  deranges  the  natural  and  healthful  action  of  that 
system?  Do  you  not  know  that  it  impairs  the 
appetite;  that  it  interferes  with  the  regular  diges- 
tion of  food;  that  it  often  induces  distressing  and 
incurable  diseases,  not  only  of  the  stomach,  but 
also  of  the  whole  body?  Are  you  not  aware  that 
the  progress  of  morbid  habit  in  the  use  of  tobacco, 
is  exactly  the  same  as  in  the  use  of  spirituous 
liquors?  The  slaves  of  it  begin  with  what  they 
call  the  temperate  and  even  sparing  use  of  the  arti- 
cle. They  take,  perhaps,  a  single  cigar,  or  a  single 
14 


158  TEMPERANCE. 

quid,  or  a  single  pinch  of  snuff,  in  a  given  number 
of  hours.  But,  after  awhile,  the  appetite  for  this 
indulgence  is  ever  craving  and  never  satisfied;  the 
sensibility  of  the  body  of  course  diminishes  with 
the  increase  of  the  frequency  and  quantity  of  the 
stimulus;  until,  at  last,  the  miserable  individual  is 
wretched  without  it;  and  when  he  cannot  obtain 
the  indulgence,  is  reduced  to  a  state  of  suffering 
more  distressing  than  when  tortured  by  the  most 
importunate  hunger.  I  have  often  known  persons, 
when  deprived  of  the  use  of  tobacco  for  a  few 
hours,  wholly  unfit  for  either  study  or  conversation, 
and  thrown  into  a  state  of  agitation  but  little  short 
of  mental  derangement.  Is  it  wise  in  any  one  to 
create  such  an  artificial  craving  as  may  make  him 
the  sport  of  circumstances,  and  the  absence  of  a 
paltry  indulgence  destructive  to  his  comfort,  and 
even,  for  a  time,  to  his  usefulness? 

It  has  been  said  indeed,  that  chewing  and  smok- 
ing tobacco  assist  the  operations  of  the  mind;  that 
they  produce  a  soothing  and  quickening  influence 
which  is  friendly  to  study,  and  especially  to  all 
works  of  composition  and  eloquence.  But  do  not 
ardent  spirits  and  wine  give  insidious  aid  of  the 
same  kind;  and  is  not  the  ultimate  effect,  in  both 
cases,  deceptive  and  often  fatal? 

Nor  is  the  tendency  of  tobacco  less  obvious  to 
produce  ultimate  intemperance  in  the  use  of  dis- 
tilled and  fermented  liquors.     One  of  the  usual 


TEMPERANCE.  159 

effects  of  smoking  and  chewing  is  thirst.  This 
thirst  cannot  be  allayed  by  water;  for  no  insipid 
beverage  will  be  relished  when  the  mouth  and 
throat  have  been  exposed  to  the  stimulus  of  the 
smoke  or  juice  of  tobacco.  A  desire  is,  of  course, 
excited  for  strong  drink;  and  this,  when  taken 
between  meals,  will  soon  lead  to  habits  of  intoxica- 
tion. I  have  seen  so  many  chewers  and  smokers 
ensnared  into  the  opprobrious  love  of  inebriating 
drinks,  that  I  always  tremble  when  I  see  any  one, 
and  especially  a  young  person,  becoming  fond  of 
the  cigar  or  the  quid,  and  consider  him  as  on  the 
verge  of  a  precipice. 

I  have  forborne  to  say  any  thing  of  the  enormous 
expense  of  smoking,  especially  as  this  indulgence 
is  conducted  by  some  students  of  reckless  habits. 
I  cannot  doubt  that  some  members  of  colleges  have 
added  one  hundred  dollars  a  year  to  the  other 
charges  of  their  education,  for  this  hateful  and 
offensive  indulgence  alone;  in  a  few  cases  perhaps 
double  that  sum.  How  a  young  man  of  reflection 
has  been  able  to  settle  such  an  account  with  his 
own  conscience,  and  with  an  affectionate  parent, 
who  was,  perhaps,  denying  himself  for  the  sake  of 
furnishing  the  requisite  funds  for  a  beloved  son,  I 
know  not.  I  am  constrained  to  think  less  of  the 
moral  sentiments  as  well  as  of  the  understanding 
of  one  who  is  capable  of  reconciling  himself  to  such 


160  TEMPERANCE. 

extravagance  for  such  a  hateful  and  injurious  pur- 
pose. 

My  opposition  to  the  use  of  tobacco  in  the  form 
of  snuff  is  scarcely  less  decisive  than  that  to  the 
other  forms  of  this  noxious  weed.  The  effects  of 
snuff  in  affecting  the  voice,  the  complexion,  and 
the  nervous  system,  are  well  known  to  all  persons 
of  much  observation.  I  have  seen  deplorable  cases 
of  nasal  obstruction,  of  nervous  tremulousness,  and 
various  forms  of  disease  induced  by  this  disgusting 
habit;  and  every  young  person  who  indulges  in  it 
in  any  degree,  is  in  danger  of  being  led  on  by 
degrees  until  he  shall  become  a  distress  to  himself, , 
and  an  offence  to  all  who  approach  him. 

Let  me  entreat  you,  then,  my  dear  sons,  never 
to  indulge  in  the  use  of  tobacco  in  any  form,  or  in 
any  degree.  Whether  the  temptation  assail  you 
by  assuming  the  guise  of  a  remedy  for  some  dis- 
ease, or  as  a  source  of  social  enjoyment,  believe  not 
its  promises.  It  is  a  deceiver,  and  will,  sooner  or 
later,  give  reason  for  repentance. 

The  late  Dr.  Franklin,  a  few  months  before  his 
death,  declared  to  a  friend,  that  he  had  never  used 
tobacco  in  any  way  in  the  course  of  a  long  life;  and 
that  one  striking  fact  had  exerted  much  influence 
on  his  mind  in  relation  to  this  practice,  viz.  that  he 
never  had  met  with  any  one  who  was  addicted 
to  the  use  of  it  who  advised  him  to  follow  his  ex- 
ample.    I  will  add  to  this  statement  another  of 


TEMPERANCE,  161 

similar  and  still  more  decisive  import.  I  never  yet 
met  with  a  large  consumer  of  tobacco  in  any  form 
who,  when  interrogated  on  the  subject,  did  not  say, 
that,  if  he  had  to  live  his  life  over  again,  he  would 
avoid  the  habit  which  had  made  him  its  slave;  and 
that  he  would  by  no  means  advise  his  children  to 
do  as  he  had  done. 

I  expressed  an  opinion,  on  a  preceding  page,  that 
you  ought  to  make  luater  your  only  common  beve- 
rage. My  own  personal  experience,  as  well  as 
close  observation  on  the  habits  of  others,  convince 
me  of  the  wisdom  of  this  advice.  If  you  wish  to 
live  out  all  your  days,  and  to  possess  a  sound  mind 
in  a  sound  body,  drink  nothing  else,  as  a  habit. 
But  you  may  drink  too  much,  even  of  water.  The 
habit  of  incessantly  guzzling  even  this  simple  and 
innocent  fluid,  either  marks  the  existence  of  dis- 
ease, or  will  probably  lead  to  it.  It  indicates  the 
presence,  or  the  approach  of  a  feverish  diathesis;  or 
if  it  do  not  spring  from  the  power  of  disease  al- 
ready formed,  it  will  be  likely,  by  deluging  the 
stomach  with  fluid,  by  diluting  the  gastric  juice, 
and  thus  impairing  its  appropriate  power,  to  inter- 
fere with  digestion,  and,  of  course,  to  impair  the 
health.  Thirst  is  quite  as  well  slaked,  in  my  ex- 
perience, by  two  or  three  spoonfuls  as  by  a  pint  or 
a  quart;  and  all  beyond  this  moderate  portion  tends 
rather  to  load  the  stomach  than  to  refresh  and 
nourish.  The  habit  of  flooding  the  stomach  with 
14* 


162  TEMPERANCE. 

fluids  is,  undoubtedly,  to  most  people,  very  inju- 
rious. The  drier  our  food  when  we  receive  it  the 
better.  At  least  all  my  observation  leads  me  so  to 
pronounce. 

Besides,  if  I  mistake  not,  I  have  had  occasion  to 
remark,  that  the  habit  of  intemperance  in  drinking 
even  water  is  apt  ultimately  to  betray  those  who 
indulge  it,  into  the  intemperate  use  of  intoxicating 
drinks.  Where  persons  find  perpetual  drinking 
necessary  to  their  comfort;  where  they  have  in- 
duced a  constant  artificial  thirst,  and  are  continually 
moistening  their  lips  and  fauces  with  the  mildest 
fluid;  what  can  be  more  natural  than  gradually  to 
slide  into  the  use  of  something  more  sapid  and 
stimulating?  The  incessant  drinker  will  seldom  be 
long  together  satisfied  with  water  alone. 


163 


LETTER    IX. 

THE  FORMA.TION  AND  THE  VALUE  OF  CHARACTER. 

"Whatsoever  things  are  true,  whatsoever  things  are  honest, 
whatsoever  things  are  just,  whatsoever  things  are  pure,  whatsoever 
things  are  lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report;  if  there 
be  any  virtue,  and  if  there  be  any  praise,  think  on  these  things." — 
Philip,  iv.  8. 

My  Dear  Sons, 

I  TAKE  for  granted  that  you  have  a  laudable 
desire  to  maintain  an  elevated  character,  not  only 
among  your  fellow  students,  but  also  in  general 
society,  and  throughout  life.  I  have  no  objection 
to  styling  this  desire  a  commendable  ambition.  I 
am  aware  that  the  term  ambition  is  generally  used 
in  a  bad  sense,  and  that  it  is  not  commonly  num- 
bered among  the  Christian  virtues.  But  1  am  un- 
willing that  the  devil  should  appropriate  such  an 
expressive  and  convenient  word  to  his  own  use. 
Ambition  may  be  groveling  and  criminal,  or  it 
may  be  elevated  and  noble.  It  is  always  the  latter 
when  its  object  is  the  attainment  of  true  excellence, 


164      THE  FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER. 

and  the  enjoyment  of  high  esteem  among  the  wise 
and  the  good.  The  Latin  scholar  will  imme- 
diately trace  its  etymology  to  the  practice  among 
the  old  Romans,  of  candidates  for  office  "going 
about"  to  solicit  the  good  opinion  and  votes  of  the 
people.  But  when  any  one  seeks  to  excel  in  vir- 
tuous and  useful  conduct;  when  he  desires  to  have 
a  "good  name"  among  his  fellow  men;  and  for 
the  attainment  of  this,  among  higher  and  better 
objects,  "goes  about"  doing  good — seeking  to 
promote  the  welfare  of  all  around  him; — who  will 
hesitate  to  say,  that  this  is  a  laudable  ambition? 
The  truth  is,  this  feeling,  like  the  desire  of  happi- 
ness, is  good  or  evil  according  to  the  direction 
which  it  takes,  and  the  means  which  it  employs, 
I  indulge  the  hope  that  the  ambition  of  my  be- 
loved sons  will  be  neither  irregular  nor  ignoble; 
but  will  have  for  its  object  that "  good  name  which 
is  rather  to  be  chosen  than  great  riches,  and  that 
loving  favour  which  is  more  precious  than  silver 
or  gold." 

Ask  yourselves,  then,  what  is  that  thing  called 
elevated  character,  which  is  most  highly  esteemed 
among  wise  men,  and  which  is  most  worthy  of  your 
pursuit?  It  is  not  the  possession  of  great  wealth. 
Some  of  the  richest  men  that  ever  lived  have  been 
among  the  most  vile  and  detestable?  The  great 
Governor  of  the  world  often  testifies  "  of  how  little 
value  exorbitant  wealth  is  in  his  sight  by  bestow- 


THE  FORMATION  OP  CHARACTER.      165 

ing  it  upon  the  most  unworthy  of  mortals."* 
Neither  does  the  character  of  which  I  speak  con- 
sist of  great  popularity  among  the  multitude.  This 
popularity  has  frequently  been  attained,  and  some- 
times in  a  very  high  degree,  by  men  who  were 
destitute  of  a  single  virtue,  and  who  ought  to  have 
been  universally  abhorred.  Nor  does  it  necessarily 
imply  great  genius,  or  intellectual  powers  of  a 
very  high  order.  These  endowments  fall  to  the 
lot  of  very  few  men,  and  even  these  are  sometimes 
monsters  of  wickedness.  What  wise  man  would 
be  wiUing  to  take  the  talents  of  Byron  at  the 
expense  of  incurring  his  moral  infamy?  On  the 
contrary  some  of  the  most  beloved  and  useful  men 
that  ever  lived,  did  not  possess  extraordinary 
talents,  but  that  happy  combination  of  good  sense, 
sound  judgment  and  great  moral  purity  and  ac- 
tivity which  fitted  them  to  be  a  blessing  to  man- 
kind. 

What,  then,  is  that  character  which  is  most 
highly  esteemed  by  the  wise  and  the  good;  which 
most  certainly  and  effectually  commands  public 
esteem  and  confidence;  and  which  a  man  of  really 
elevated  views  would  wish  to  enjoy?  No  thinking 
person  can  be  for  a  moment  at  a  loss  to  answer 
this  question.  It  is  a  character  which  exhibits  the 
combined  and  noble  qualities  of  respectable  talents^ 

*Arbuthnot's  Epitaph  on  Francis  Charires. 


166      THE  FORMATION  OP  CHARACTER. 

sound  and  extensive  knowledge,  immovable  hi- 
tegrity  diiiA  honour,  persevering  industry  in  every 
laudable  pursuit,  fidelity  to  every  engagement, 
enlightened,  steady  patriotism,  a  spirit  of  warm, 
diffusive,  active  benevolence,  and  unfeigned  con- 
sistent piety.  Where  these  qualities  meet  and 
shine  in  any  individual — and  the  more  complete 
the  assemblage  the  better — all  parties  will  unite  in 
ascribing  to  him  an  exalted  character; — all  will 
concur  in  saying — this  is  the  "  highest  style  of 
MAN."  Even  the  vilest  profligate  in  the  commu- 
nity would  earnestly  desire,  if  it  were  possible,  to 
possess  such  a  character;  and  if  he  were  about  to 
select  a  medical  attendant  for  his  family  in  severe 
sickness;  a  legal  counsellor  for  himself  in  a  case  of 
important  and  perplexing  controversy;  an  executor 
of  his  estate,  or  a  guardian  for  his  children;  he 
would  say,  with  instinctive  eagerness,  "  Give  me  a 
man  not  only  of  sound  talents  and  knowledge,  but 
also  of  high  and  unblemished  moral  and  religious 
character."  Even  atheists  have  never  failed  to 
prefer  such  men  for  important  confidential  trusts, 
to  those  of  their  own  class.  And  why  is  it  thus? 
simply  because  the  character  which  I  have  de- 
scribed is  best  adapted  to  prepare  those  who  pos- 
sess it  to  meet  all  the  relations,  to  perform  all  the 
duties,  and  to  enjoy  all  the  comforts  of  life,  and  to 
promote  the  welfare  and  happiness  of  all  around 
them. 


THE  FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER.  167 

The  value  of  such  a  character,  as  a  commodity 
in  the  market,  is  inestimable.  The  qualities,  in- 
deed, which  go  to  form  such  a  character  are  intrin- 
sically excellent,  and  ought  to  be  prized  for  their 
own  sake.  But  their  value  does  not  end  here. 
They  elevate  their  possessor  in  public  estimation. 
They  inspire  confidence  not  only,  as  I  have  said, 
on  the  part  of  the  wise  and  the  good,  but  of  all 
classes  of  society.  They  put  it  in  his  power  to 
take  a  higher  professional  stand;  to  command 
larger  emoluments  for  his  services;  and,  in  short, 
to  attain  honours  and  rewards  in  proportion  to 
their  popular  acceptance. 

Now  if  such  be  the  character  which  is  most 
truly  desirable;  which  is  most  esteemed  by  all 
classes  of  men;  which  is  the  richest  source  of  in- 
fluence  and  power;  and  which  is  adapted  to  secure 
the  greatest  amount  both  of  usefulness  and  enjoy- 
ment,—surely  every  one  who  is  preparing  to  live 
should  keep  this  object  continually  in  view,  and 
seek  its  attainment  as  the  best  earthly  treasure. 
He  cannot  begin  too  early,  or  labour  too  diligently 
to  gain  that  which  is  unspeakably  more  precious 
than  all  the  stores  of  mammon  that  were  ever 
amassed.  On  the  one  hand,  whatever  else  a  man 
may  gain,  if  his  character  be  not  elevated,  he  is 
poor  indeed:  and,  on  the  other  hand,  whatever  he 
may  lose,  if  his  character  be  untarnished  and  high, 
he  is  still  rich.    Friends  may  die;  wealth  may  take 


168  THE  FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER. 

to  itself  wings  and  fly  away;  honourable  office 
may  be  wrested  from  him;  but  if  his  character 
remain  unsulUed,  his  most  precious  earthly  posses- 
sion is  still  left  him;  he  can  still  call  his  own  all 
that  love,  respect,  and  true  honour,  which  may 
enable  him  either  to  regain  all  that  he  has  lost,  or 
to  live  contented  and  happy  without  it. 

This  being  the  case,  it  has  often  excited  in 
my  mind  great  surprise,  and  not  a  little  regret,  to 
find  members  of  college,  not  freshmen  merely, 
but  juniors,  and  even  seniors,  apparently  taking 
no  thought  for  the  establishment  of  a  high  and 
honourable  character  among  their  fellow  students, 
and  the  mass  of  their  acquaintances.  I  see  them 
indulging  a  temper,  using  language,  exhibiting 
manners,  and  allowing  themselves  to  pursue  a 
system  of  conduct,  adapted  to  excite  the  aversion 
and  distrust  if  not  the  utter  enmity  of  all  who  are 
connected  with  them.  Surely  such  young  men 
forget  that,  even  if  they  succeed  in  becoming  emi- 
nent scholars,  it  will  only  be  to  render  themselves 
more  conspicuously  odious,  and,  of  course,  more 
unable  to  rise  in  the  world;  and  they  equally  forget 
that  if  it  be  desirable  and  important  that  a  good 
character  be  formed,  as  it  is  not  the  growth  of  a 
day,  or  of  a  sudden  volition,  the  sooner  they  begin 
to  form  and  to  build  it  up  the  better. 

This  character,  let  it  ever  be  remembered,  must 
in  all  cases  be  formed  hy  the  individual  himself. 


THE  FORMATION  OP  CHARACTER.  169 

I  do  not  mean,  of  course,  by  this  remark,  to  exclude 
that  divine  aid  by  which  every  thing  truly  good  in 
our  hearts  or  lives  is  attained.  Without  that  aid 
we  can  do  nothing.  But  my  meaning  is,  that 
every  one's  character  depends  on  the  spirit  and 
conduct  which  he  himself  possesses  and  exhibits. 
He  cannot  leave  to  others  the  task  of  forming  it 
for  him,  any  more  than  he  can  leave  to  others  the 
task  of  eating  and  drinking  and  breathing  to  sus- 
tain his  life.  His  own  spirit  and  acts  must  form 
his  character.  It  is  not  enough  that  the  parents  or 
other  relatives  of  a  young  man  maintain  a  high 
standing.  They  may  occupy  the  very  highest  posi- 
tion in  office,  honour  and  wealth  that  can  possibly 
be  enjoyed;  but  if  Ae  have  no  character  of  his  own, 
these  advantages  will  be  so  far  from  sustaining 
him,  that  their  influence  will  be  rather  adverse  in 
its  nature.  His  degradation  will  assuredly  be,  by 
contrast,  more  complete,  in  public  estimation,  on 
account  of  the  other  members  of  his  family.  I 
have  known  not  a  few  young  men  evidently  ruined 
by  acting  on  the  presumption  that  the  character  of 
their  parents  would  sustain  them  without  effort  on 
their  part,  and  who,  under  this  impression,  ne- 
glected the  cultivation  of  their  minds,  and  took  no 
pains  to  form  virtuous  habits,  or  to  establish  a 
reputation  of  their  own.  Never  was  there  a  more 
deplorable  mistake  than  this.  Character  is  a  per- 
sonal matter.  It  must  be  strictly  your  own,  or  it  can 
15 


170  THE  FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER. 

profit  you  nothing.  There  is  a  sense,  and  that  a 
most  important  one,  in  which  it  may  be  said,  that 
all  the  world  can  not  sustain  your  reputation,  if 
you  neglect  it  yourselves.  It  must,  under  God,  be 
constantly  sustained  by  yourselves,  or  it  will  fall 
into  ruin. 

So  far  as  my  observation  has  gone,  the  greater 
part  of  college  students  appear  to  have  no  laudable 
emulation  at  all.  They  are  sunk  in  intellectual 
and  moral  apathy,  neither  aiming  nor  striving  to 
excel  in  any  thing.  And  when  a  few  are  roused 
to  a  measure  of  zeal  and  effort,  their  desire  seems 
to  be  directed  to  mere  excellence  in  scholarship 
and  nothing  else.  If  they  can  outstrip  all  others 
in  study  and  attainments,  their  utmost  wishes  are 
answered.  This  is,  no  doubt,  an  important  part  of 
the  character  which  ought  to  be  sought  by  every 
young  man;  but  it  is  not  the  ivhole;  nay,  it  is  not 
the  most  essential  part.  Many  a  youth  has  gained 
the  "  first  honour,"  who  had  a  hateful  temper,  and 
never  attained  any  high  degree  of  esteem  among 
men,  notwithstanding  his  mere  literary  triumph. 
It  is  my  earnest  desire,  my  dear  sons,  that  you 
may  acquire  and  maintain  a  character  for  eminent 
scholarship;  but  it  would  grieve  me  to  the  heart  if 
your  character  went  no  further  than  this.  My 
still  more  ardent  desire  is,  that  you  may  attain  and 
manifest  all  those  moral  and  religious  qualities 
which  excite  esteem,  which  command  confidence. 


THE  FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER.  171 

which  secure  the  love  of  the  wise  and  the  good,  and 
which  prepare  for  eminent  nsefuhiess.  This,  this 
is  the  character  which,  in  prosperity  and  adversity, 
in  sickness  and  in  health,  in  sorrow  and  in  joy,  in 
life  and  in  death,  will  bear  its  possessor  through, 
and  never  fail  him. 

Allow  me  to  say,  further,  that  I  desire  for  you 
that  DECISION  OP  CHARACTER  which  is  adapted  to 
resist  all   temptation,  and  to  overbear  every  un- 
friendly influence.  The  great  unhappiness  of  many, 
and  especially  of  many  young  men,  is  that,  though 
their  principles  are  correct,  and   their  intentions 
good,  they  are  apt  to  yield  to  solicitation.     They 
cannot  put  a  decisive  negative  on  the  wishes  and 
entreaties  of  beloved  friends.     This  is  a  deplorable 
weakness,  which  has  led  to  many  a  false  step,  and 
to  many  a  shipwreck  of  youthful  promise.     It  is 
one  of  the  most  precious  attainments  of  a  young 
man  not  only  to  be  established  in  good  principles, 
but  to  have  them  so  fixed,  firm  and  governing  as 
to  stand  equally  unmoved  against  the  terrors  of 
menace,  and  the  enticements  of  flattery;  to  culti- 
vate a  firmness  of  moral  purpose  which  dares  to 
deny,  and  which  is  not  ashamed  in  pursuing  the 
path  of  duty,  to  put  custom,  fashion,  and  the  solici- 
tation of  the  greatest  numbers  at  defiance.     This 
moral  courage,  boldness   and   decision   impart   a 
finish  to  a  character  in  all  other  respects  good, 
which  is  at  once  as  ornamental  as  it  is  useful. 


172  THE  FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER. 

While  I  call  upon  you  to  consider  the  import- 
ance of  character,  and  to  recollect  that  it  is  a  trea- 
sure to  be  formed  and  maintained  by  yourselves;  1 
would,  at  the  same  time  remind  you  that  it  is  a 
most  delicate  thing  which  a  single  false  step  may 
irretrievable  destroy.  Young  men  are  apt,  indeed, 
to  imagine  that  their  conduct  during  the  period  of 
adolescence  is  of  small  importance.  They  admit, 
and  perhaps  in  some  measure  feel,  that,  by  and  by, 
when  they  shall  have  advanced  a  little  further  in 
the  career  of  life,  every  step  that  they  take  will  be 
practically  momentous.  They  allow  that  reputa- 
tion then  will  be,  indeed,  a  tender  plant,  easily 
blasted,  and  requiring  to  be  protected  and  nurtured 
with  the  utmost  care.  But  noio  they  imagine  that 
they  may  take  considerable  liberties  with  their 
reputation;  that  juvenile  mistakes,  and  even  serious 
delinquencies,  will  be  readily  overlooked  and  soon 
forgotten  by  an  indulgent  community.  There 
never  was  a  greater  mistake.  All  my  experience 
leads  me  to  say,  that  the  aberrations  of  college 
students  from  the  patlis  of  integrity  and  honour  are 
remembered  against  them  with  a  degree  of  tena- 
city and  permanency  truly  instructive.  I  have 
known  one  false  step  in  college,  one  dishonest  or 
dishonourable  action,  one  consent,  in  evil  hour,  to 
become  a  partaker  in  a  disreputable  scheme  or 
enterprise,  to  fasten  itself  upon  a  young  man,  to 
follow  him,  and  to  adhere  to  him  to  his  dying  day. 


THE  FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER.      173 

I  could  easily  specify  examples,  if  it  were  proper, 
ill  which  gross  lying,  petty  theft,  mean  deception, 
or  swindling,  which  occurred  in  different  colleges, 
at  eighteen  or  nineteen  years  of  age;  which  no 
subsequent  conduct  could  ever  obliterate  from  the 
popular  memory;  which  followed  their  perpetra- 
tors through  a  long  public  career;  and  which  some 
coarse  rival  or  opponent  brought  up  to  their  con- 
fusion and  shame  in  old  age.  When  will  the 
wretch  who,  not  long  since,  murdered  Profess&r 
Davis,  of  the  University  of  Virginia,  be  able  to 
escape  from  the  infamy,  and,  if  he  be  not  a  fiend 
incarnate,  from  the  remorse,  of  that  awful  crime? 
Even  if,  by  the  grace  of  God,  he  were  to  become 
a  saint  from  this  hour,  how  would  he  obtain 
deliverance  from  the  tortures  of  his  own  mind,  or 
from  the  reproaches  of  every  one  who  identified 
his  person,  though  taking  refuge  in  the  remotest 
corner  of  the  globe  to  which  his  flight  may  bear 
him? 

Let  me  say,  then,  my  dear  sons,  if  you  desire  to 
form  and  maintain  an  honourable  character  through 
hfe,  begin  now  to  establish  it,  to  watch  over  it,  to 
guard  with  the  utmost  care  against  every  thing 
that  can,  by  possibility,  affect  it  unfavourably.  Try 
to  establish  a  reputation  with  all  with  whom  you 
have  intercourse,  for  a  strict  regard  to  truth,  and 
for  the  most  scrupulous  adherence  to  integrity  and 
honour  in  every  transaction.  Let  nothing  tempt 
15* 


174      THE  FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER. 

you  to  engage,  for  a  moment,  in  any  scheme  or 
enterprise  involving  duplicity,  underhand  dealing, 
or  any  thing  that  could  tempt  you  to  shun  the  light. 
Allow  yourselves  to  deceive  nobody.  Enter  into 
no  cabal.  Put  it  into  no  one's  power  to  charge 
you  with  mean  trick,  or  double  dealing,  in  the 
smallest  concern.  Rather  suffer  any  thing  your- 
selves than  deceive,  betray,  or  injure  any  human 
being.  Let  no  false  shame,  no  fear  of  giving 
offence,  no  desire  to  conciliate  friends  ever  tempt 
you  to  consent  to  that  which  your  judgment  con- 
demns. Dare  to  do  what  your  conscience  tells 
you  is  right, — whomsoever  it  may  disappoint  or 
offend.  Avoid  with  sacred  care  slander,  back- 
biting, in  short,  every  thing  inconsistent  with  the 
strictest  justice,  the  most  elevated  magnanimity, 
and  the  purest  benevolence.  Never  indulge  that 
gossiping  spirit,  which  leads  to  the  propagation, 
however  honestly,  of  evil  reports,  and  which  fre- 
quently involves  those  who  indulge  it  in  vexatious 
and  not  very  honourable  explanations  and  apolo- 
gies. You  are  preparing,  if  permitted  to  live,  for 
public  usefulness.  For  such  a  life,  in  any  profes- 
sion, a  degree  of  reserve,  caution,  and  even  tacitur- 
nity, is  indispensable.  Begin  now  that  self-discipline 
which  will  prepare  you  for  all  the  solemn  and  deli- 
cate responsibilites  of  public  station.  A  man  "full 
of  talk"  will  often  find  himself  embarrassed  by  the 
unbridled  effusions  of  his  own  tongue.     "Be  swift 


THE  FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER.      175 

to  hear,  slow  to  speak,  slow  to  wrath."  In  a  word, 
let  it  be  your  aim  in  every  thing  to  establish  such 
a  character  as  shall  compel  every  one  who  knows 
you  to  rely  on  your  word  as  much  as  upon  other 
men's  oalh;  and  to  say,  whenever  there  is  occasion 
to  speak  of  you,  "  Here,  if  any  where  on  earth,  we 
shall  find  candour,  truth  and  honour." 


176 


LETTER  X. 

-    PATRIOTISM. 

"  Pro  Piitria,  Pro  Patria." 

My  Dear  Sons, 

An  eastern  sage  was  wont  to  say,  "  No  life  is 
pleasing  to  God,  that  is  not  useful  to  man."  Tiie 
spirit  of  Christianity  still  more  clearly  and  strongly 
inculcates  the  same  sentiment.  The  Saviour  con- 
stantly "  went  about  doing  good."  His  daily  walks, 
and  all  his  miracles  had  for  their  object  the  instruc- 
tion of  the  ignorant,  the  relief  of  suffering,  and  the 
promotion  of  the  temporal  and  eternal  welfare  of 
men. 

This  is  the  pattern  for  all  who  profess  to  be  his 
disciples.  Nay  more,  it  is  not  only  the  pattern 
presented  and  recommended  to  the  Christian;  but  it 
is  a  plan  of  living  so  reasonable,  so  beautiful,  so 
wise,  and  so  attractive  in  itself,  that  every  rational 
creature  ought  to  make  it  his  model.  It  were  an 
easy  task,  independently  of  revelation,  to  demon- 
strate that  such  a  life,  on  the  part  of  every  social 
being,  is  demanded  by  his  own  true  interest,  and 


PATRIOTISM.  177 

by  the  happiness  of  society,  as  well  as  by  the 
authority  of  God.  It  is  true  on  the  real  prin- 
ciples of  natural  religion,  as  well  as  of  revealed, 
that  no  man  can  innocently  live  to  himself. 

What  ingenuous  youthful  student  of  the  classics 
has  not  felt  a  generous  ardour  glowing  in  his  bosom 
when  he  dwelt  on  that  oft  repeated  maxim  of  the 
pagan  poet,  "/>w/ce  et  decorum  est  2jro  patria 
mori;^^  and  when  he  read  of  the  self-sacrifices  of 
Cur  this,  and  of  the  father,  son  and  grandson  of  the 
Decii,  for  the  sake  of  their  country?  Surely  these 
feelings  are  not  kindled  by  an  ideal  abstraction. 

I  am  aware  that  it  has  been  said,  that  we  no 
where  find  patriotism  enjoined,  as  a  virtue  in  the 
Christian  Scriptures.  And,  if  by  patriotism  be 
meant,  as  some  understand  the  term  to  mean,  that 
exclusive  or  paramount  attachment  to  a  particular 
nation,  because  we  happen  to  be  members  of  it, 
which  permits  us  to  disregard  the  rights  or  invade 
the  interests  of  other  nations;  then,  indeed,  the 
word  of  God  neither  enjoins  nor  allows  it.  The 
religion  of  the  Bible  is  adapted  and  intended  for 
all  nations  alike.  And,  of  course,  the  spirit  of  the 
Bible  is  a  spirit  of  universal  benevolence,  which 
desires  and  aims  to  promote  the  welfare  of  every 
creature. 

We  are  not,  indeed,  to  consider  Christianity  as 
teaching  that  we  are  to  have  no  more  regard  for 
our  own  country  than  for  any  other.     Such  a  view 


17S  PATRIOTISM. 

Of  duty  would  be  unnatural,  and  likely  to  exert,  in 
the   end,  a   mischievous   influence.     The   apostle 
Paul  expresses,  in  Romans  ix.  3,  a  special  attach- 
ment to  "his  brethren,  his  kinsmen  according  to 
the  flesh;"  and  the  same  inspired  man  still  more 
strongly  and  solemnly  expresses  the  same  senti- 
ment when  he  says,  1  Timothy,  v.  8,  "  He  that  pro- 
videth  not  for  his  own,  and  especially  for  those  of 
his  own  house,  hath  denied  the  faith,  and  is  worse 
than  an  infidel."     The  truth  is,  it  is  always  most 
natural  and  most  easy  to  consult  the  interest  and 
promote  the  welfare  of  those  among  whom  we 
dwell;  to  whom  we  can  have  ready  access;  and 
especially  who  are  cast  upon  our  care.     It  would, 
indeed,  be  superlatively  absurd  to  leave  our  own 
children  to  the  care  of  strangers,  while  we  took 
care  of  theirs;  or  to  leave  the  concerns  of  our  own 
country  to  be  looked  after  and  managed  by  foreign- 
ers, while  we  undertook  to  legislate  and  judge  for 
other  countries.     Nevertheless,   though   our  own 
families,  our  own  towns,  and  our  own  country  ought 
to  engage  far  more  of  our  attention  and  care  than 
other  families,  other  towns,  and  other  countries;  yet 
we  are  not  at  liberty,  so  to  care  for  ourselves  as  to 
disregard  or  oppose  the  welfare  of  others.     But 
while  we  are  peculiarly  careful  to  do  good  to  our 
own,  we  are  quite  as  carefully  to  avoid  all  invasion 
of  the  rights  or  happiness  of  other  families  or  na- 
tions. 


yATRIOTISM.  179 

Dr.  Johnson,  indeed,  once  said,  that  *' patriotism 
is  the  last  refuge  of  a  scoundrel."  By  this  apo- 
thegm that  eminent  man  did  not  mean  to  say,  that 
there  is  no  such  genuine  virtue;  but  that,  in  ninety- 
nine  cases  out  of  an  hundred,  its  most  forward  and 
noisy  claimants  were  supremely  and  dishonestly 
selfish,  and  really  seeking  their  own  aggrandize- 
ment, not  their  country's  welfare.  This  witness  is 
true.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  greater  num- 
ber of  those  who  claim  for  their  zeal  and  their  toil 
the  patriot's  name,  are  actuated  by  the  meanest 
selfishness,  and  are  seeking  nothing  but  their  own 
advantage.  Yet,  sordid  and  base  as  the  greater 
portion  of  those  who  take  this  name  are,  patriotism 
is  not  a  mere  name.  It  is  a  precious  realitJ^  And 
I  wish  you  to  possess  it. 

He  is  the  truest  patriot,  then,  in  the  Christian 
sense  of  the  word,  who  loves  his  own  country  with 
sincere  peculiar  aifection,  and  constantly  labours  to 
promote  her  true  honour  and  happiness;  but  with- 
out injuring  or  diminishing  the  welfare  of  any 
other  country:  who  devotes  his  time,  his  counsels 
and  his  best  efforts  for  bestowing  intellectual,  moral 
and  physical  benefits  on  the  community  to  which 
he  belongs;  but  at  the  same  time  desires  and  strives 
to  bestow  the  same  benefits,  as  far  as  may  be,  on 
all  other  communities.  In  short.  Christian  patriot- 
ism considers  nothing  as  foreign  from  its  care  which 
tends  to  promote  the  happiness  of  man;  and  for  this 


180  PATRIOTISM. 

purpose  plans  and  labours,  ^r*/  to  confer  all  possi- 
ble benefits  on  its  own  family  and  nation,  and  then 
on  other  families  and  nations  to  the  remotest 
bounds  of  human  society.  In  a  word,  the  spirit  of 
genuine  patriotism,  is  the  spirit  which  prompts  to 
do  good  in  every  way  to  every  branch  of  the  hu- 
man family,  and  especially  to  those  with  whom 
we  are  more  immediately  connected,  or  who  are 
placed  most  directly  within  our  reach.  This  is  the 
noble  virtue  which  I  should  be  glad  to  see  my  sons 
cultivating,  and  which  I  hope  will  more  and  more 
shine  in  them  as  long  as  they  live. 

A  venerable  English  reformer,  nearly  three  cen- 
turies ago,  when  he  was  drawing  near  the  close  of 
life,  exclaimed  with  emphasis,  "  Pro  Ecclesia  Dei; 
Pro  Ecclesia  DeiV  It  would  gratify  me  more 
than  I  can  express  to  know  that  similar  language, 
whether  in  sickness  or  in  health,  in  life  or  in  death, 
was  constantly  uppermost  on  your  lips.  But  it 
would  also  afford  me  high  pleasure  to  know  that, 
even  now,  in  the  walks  of  the  college,  your  minds 
are  animated  with  a  noble  ambition  to  discharge 
with  fidelity  all  your  duties  as  good  citizens,  and 
that  in  looking  forward  to  your  course  in  life,  you 
often  have  in  your  minds  the  spirit,  and  on  your 
lips  the  language  of  the  motto,  which  stands  at  the 
head  of  this  letter — Pro  Pairia — Pro  Patria! 

Perhaps  you  are  ready  to  say,  that  a  letter  on 
patriotism  is  hardly  appropriate  in  a  code  of  coun- 


PATRIOTISM.  181 

sels  addressed  to  lads  in  college;  that  advice  on 
such  a  topic  would  be  more  seasonable  if  intended 
for  young  men  entering  on  professional  life,  and 
preparing  to  discharge  their  duties  as  active  citi- 
zens. If  such  a  thought  arise  in  your  minds,  it  in- 
dicates immature  conceptions  of  the  subject.  The 
present  is  your  seed-time  of  life,  not  only  in  regard 
to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  but  also  in  respect 
to  the  sentiments  and  habits  of  thinking  which  are 
to  stamp  your  wiiole  course.  Jllexander  Hamil- 
ton, the  first  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  of  the 
United  States,  came  to  this  country,  a  youth  of  six- 
teen, a  short  time  before  the  crisis  of  our  contest 
with  Great  Britain,  and  the  conmiencement  of  the 
revolutionary  war.  Though  this  was  only  his 
adopted  country,  yet,  as  he  resolved  to  cast  in  his 
lot  with  her,  he  soon  began  to  feel  that  she  had 
claims  upon  him,  and  that  his  best  powers  ought  to 
be  devoted  to  her  service.  Even  while  he  was  in 
college,  his  patriotic  zeal  was  awakened  to  plead 
her  cause,  and  endeavour  to  promote  her  welfare. 
At  that  early  period  he  wrote  a  number  of  pieces 
in  the  journals  of  the  day,  in  favour  of  indepen- 
dence, so  judicious,  so  eloquent,  and  in  every  re- 
spect so  elevated  in  their  character,  that  they  were, 
at  first,  ascribed  to  the  pen  of  one  of  the  ablest 
writers  and  statesmen  of  New  York.  With  what 
ardour,  ability  and  usefulness  the  subsequent  por- 
tions of  his  life  were  devoted  to  the  service  of  his 
16 


182  PATRIOTISM. 

country,  in  her  armies,  her  deliberative  bodies,  and* 
her  cabinet,  no  one  who  is  acquainted  with  our  his- 
tory is  ignorant. 

This  example,  and  many  others  which  might  be 
cited,  both  in  this  country  and  the  land  of  our 
fathers,  show  that  the  sooner  you  begin  to  realize 
to  yourselves  that  your  country  has  a  claim  on  you, 
and  that  you  are  bound  to  respond  to  that  claim 
by  preparing  to  serve  her  with  your  best  powers, 
— the  better.  Such  a  practical  impression,  recog- 
nised and  carried  out  into  habitual  act,  is  adapted 
to  exert  an  influence  on  the  whole  character  of  a 
young  man,  of  the  happiest  kind. 

It  cannot  fail  to  enlarge  and  elevate  his  mind. 
One  of  the  greatest  faults  of  most  young  men  is, 
that  their  views  are  narrow  and  sordid.  They  do 
not  lift  their  minds  to  high  and  remote  objects.  If 
their  present  appetites  and  wishes  can  be  gratified; 
if  their  present  little  tasks  can  be  acceptably  per- 
formed, it  is  enough.  They  look  for  no  prepara- 
tion, recognise  no  responsibility  beyond  this.  But 
the  moment  the  principle  of  genuine  patriotism 
takes  root  and  springs  up  in  the  mind,  it  presents 
an  object  of  desire,  a  motive  to  action,  at  once 
noble  and  elevating.  It  carries  its  possessor  out  of 
himself,  and  disposes  him  to  make  sacrifices  to 
principle.  The  youth  begins  to  see  that  he  is 
bound  to  live  for  a  great  purpose.  His  country,  in 
consequence  of  his  connecting  with  it  his  own  des- 


PATRIOTISM.  183 

tiny,  appears  more  precious.  He  cherishes  a  sacred 
emulation  to  be  a  benefactor  to  the  community  and 
to  the  world.  He  desires  that  the  world  may  be 
the  better  and  the  happier  for  his  having  lived  in 
it.  He,  of  course,  shapes  his  plans,  his  studies,  and 
his  habits  accordingly.  He  cultivates  his  powers, 
stores  his  mind  with  knowledge,  and  labours  to 
attain  that  species  of  excellence  which  will  enable 
him  most  effectually  to  serve  the  public.  In  short, 
the  mind  of  such  a  youth  is  cast,  as  it  were,  into  a 
mould  adapted  to  great  attainments,  great  services, 
and  great  usefulness. 

Such  a  youth  will,  of  course,  learn  to  see  and 
despise  that  noisy,  heartless  pretension  to  patriot- 
ism, which  flows,  not  from  the  least  love  of  country, 
but  from  a  desire  to  make  a  living  out  of  the  coun- 
try, or  to  be  decorated  with  her  honours.  This,  it 
is  to  be  feared,  is  the  real  spirit  of  nine-tenths,  if 
not  much  more,  of  all  the  professed  patriotism 
which  is  most  ardent  and  obtrusive.  This  spirit  is 
indeed,  what  the  great  English  moralist  styles  it, 
"the  last  refuge  of  a  scoundrel."  The  young 
patriot  in  college  will  have  made  no  small  acquisi- 
tion when  he  has  learned  the  sordid,  despicable 
character  of  this  spirit,  and  acquired  a  real  taste  for 
something  higher  and  better. 

1  need  scarcely  add,  that  the  student  who  has 
imbibed  something  of  the  patriotic  spirit,  will  not 
be  found  lending  his  aid,  or  even  his  countenance 


184  PATRIOTISM. 

to  any  species  of  disorder  in  college.  He  will 
regard  perfect  obedience  to  the  laws  as  an  essential 
part  of  the  character,  not  only  of  a  good  student, 
but  also  of  a  good  citizen.  He  will  turn  away, 
upon  principle,  froin  all  the  practices  which  are 
unfriendly  to  order,  to  purity,  to  health,  and,  in 
general,  to  the  best  interests  of  society.  He  will 
refuse  to  employ  his  time  in  reading  books,  what- 
ever may  be  their  fascinations,  which  are  immoral, 
and,  of  course,  mischievous  in  their  tendency.  In 
a  word,  he  will  abhor  every  thing  which  is  un- 
friendly to  the  happiness  of  the  community;  and 
will  grudge  no  toil  which  is  adapted  to  put  him  in 
posession  of  any  knowledge  or  accomplishment  by 
which  he  may  be  better  qualified  to  become  an 
ornament  and  a  benefactor  to  his  country. 

I  hope,  my  dear  sons,  you  will  no  longer  say  or 
think,  that  this  is  a  subject  on  which  it  is  unsuit- 
able to  address  a  student  in  college.  So  far  from 
this  being,  in  my  estimation,  the  case,  I  am  con- 
strained to  say,  that,  next  to  the  piety  of  the  heart, 
which  is,  more  than  any  thing  else,  the  anchor  of 
the  soul,  and  better  adapted  to  hold  it  fast,  and  to 
hold  it  comfortably  on  the  troubled  ocean  of  life — 
I  desire  my  sons  to  imbibe  the  spirit  of  patriotism; 
to  feel  that  they  belong  to  their  country,  as  well  as 
their  God,  and  that  they  are  solemnly  bound  to 
cultivate  every  power,  and  to  make  every  attain- 
ment,  which  will   qualify  them  to   be  so   many 


PATRIOTISM.  185 

sources  of  light,  and  virtue  and  happiness  to  the 
community.  Because  I  know  that  the  more  deeply 
this  principle  shall  take  root  in  their  minds,  the 
more  benign  the  influence  which  it  will  exert  over 
the  whole  character.  Such  a  principle  will  not  be 
a  mere  name.  It  will  sober  the  mind.  It  will 
impress  a  deep  sense  of  responsibility.  It  will  ex- 
cite to  diligence  in  study.  It  will  guard  a  young 
man  against  giving  his  time  to  that  frivolous  or 
mischievous  reading  which  tends  to  his  iujmy,  in- 
stead of  preparing  him  for  the  duties  of  practical  life. 
In  short,  it  will  tend  to  impart  that  sobriety,  that 
dignity,  that  industry,  that  desire  to  serve  his  gene- 
ration, and  that  desire  to  live  in  the  affections  and 
in  the  memory  of  his  fellow  citizens,  which  we 
may  hope  will  be  the  means  of  preparing  him  to 
be  the  man,  and  to  make  the  attainments,  which 
are  the  objects  of  his  noble  ambition. 


16* 


186 


LETTER    XI. 

PARTICULAR  STUDIES. 

Flori.'cris  ut  apes  in  sallihiis  omnia  libnnt, 

Omnia  nos  ilidetn  depasciinur  aurea  dicta. — Lucketius. 

]s\y  Dear  Sons, 

When  some  one  asked  JJgesilaus,  the  king  of 
Sparta,  "  What  it  was  in  whicli  youth  ought  prui- 
cipally  to  be  instructed?"  he  very  wisely  replied, 
'•  That  which  they  will  have  most  need  to  practise 
when  they  are  n)en."  I  said  that  this  was  a  wise 
reply;  and  so  it  undoubtedly  was,  if  we  could  as- 
sume that  every  one  ktiows  in  youth  what  he  may 
have  most  occasion  for  when  he  becomes  a  man. 
But  I  contend  that  no  man  knows  what  the  provi- 
dence of  God  has  in  reserve  for  him  in  after  life; 
and,  of  course  no  one  can  tell,  in  all  cases,  what 
branch  of  knowledge,  among  those  which  he  is 
called  to  study,  may  be  of  most  importance  to  him 
hereafter,  either  as  a  means  of  subsistence,  or  as  an 
avenue  to  honour  and  usefulness.  If,  therefore, 
a  student  of  college  were  to  ask  me,  "  Which  of 
my  prescribed  studies  shall  I  attend  to  with  dili- 


PARTICULAR  STUDIES.  187 

gence?"  I  would  certainly  reply — "  to  all; — neglect 
NONE  of  them;  —  be  not  content  to  be  superficial  in 
any  of  them.  It  may  be  that,  in  after  life,  you  may 
find  those  branches  of  knowledge  which  you  are 
now  tempted  to  undervalue,  of  more  vital  import- 
ance to  you  than  all  the  rest  put  together.  To  meet 
an  exigency  of  this  kmd,  try  to  be  thorough  in 
every  study;  and  then  you  may  be  prepared  for 
situation  in  which  tlie  providence  of  God  may 
any  place  you." 

I  shall  never  forget  a  remarkable  example, 
which  at  once  illustrates  and  confirms  this  advice. 
I  was  intimately  acquainted,  in  early  life,  with  one 
of  the  most  accomplished  scholars  our  country  ever 
bred.  I  refer  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  John  Ewing,  of 
Philadelphia,  for  many  years  Provost — another 
name  for  President — of  the  University  of  Pennsyl- 
vania. He  was  a  graduate  of  the  College  of  New 
Jersey,  which  then  had  its  location  in  Neioark, 
but  now  in  Priiiceton.  He  belonged  to  the  class 
which  was  graduated  in  1755,  and,  after  reading 
what  I  am  about  to  state,  you  will  not  wonder  tliat 
he  was  greatly  distinguished  in  liis  class.  He 
remarked,  one  day,  in  my  hearing,  that,  in  the 
earlier  stages  of  his  college  lite,  he  was  often 
tempted  to  slight  what  he  then  deemed  some  of 
the  less  essential  branches  of  his  prescribed  course. 
He  sometimes,  he  said,  asked  himself,  "Of  what 
use  can  some  of  these  studies  possibly  be  to  me  in 


ISS  PARTICULAR  STUDIES. 

after  life?"  Partly  by  his  own  better  reflections, 
however,  and  partly  by  the  advice  of  the  venerable 
President  Burr,  then  at  the  head  of  the  institution, 
he  was  induced  neither  to  neglect  nor  slight  any 
study,  under  the  impression  that  he  might  have 
occasion  for  them  all  in  his  subsequent  course. 
Tliis  suggestion,  which  he  contemplated  as  a  possi- 
bility, was  amply  realized.  After  the  lapse  of  a 
few  years,  he  was  himself  placed  at  the  head  of  an 
important  college,  and  found  abundant  use  for  all 
his  acquirements.  He  was  probably  more  tho- 
roughly accomplished  in  all  the  branches  of  know- 
ledge usually  studied  in  the  best  colleges,  than  any 
other  native  American  of  his  day;  and  probably 
few  of  his  contemporaries  in  any  country  exceeded 
him.  This  qualified  him  not  only  to  maintain  an 
enlightened  superintendance  over  the  whole  insti- 
tution committed  to  his  care,  but  also  enabled  him 
in  the  occasional  absence  of  any  professor,  what- 
ever his  branch  of  instruction  might  be,  to  take  his 
place,  at  a  moment's  warning,  and  perform  his 
duties  quite  as  well  as  the  professor  himself.  This 
he  was  often  known  to  do,  to  the  admiration  of 
circles  of  waiting  pupils,  who  saw  no  other  ditfer- 
ence  between  him  and  their  regular  professor  in 
that  branch  than  a  manifest  superiority  of  taste, 
accuracy,  and  profundity  on  the  part  of  their  ac 
complished  president. 

Nor   is  this  by   any  means  the  only  example 


PARTICULAR  STUDIES.  189 

which  experience  has  furnished  of  the  vital  im- 
portance to  individuals  of  diligence  and  faithfulness 
in  pursuing  every  branch  of  their  collegiate  course. 
On  the  one  hand,  1  have  known  a  number  of 
graduates  of  colleges,  who,  though  in  affluent  cir- 
cumstances at  the  time  of  their  graduation,  were 
unexpectedly  reduced  to  poverty,  who  found  the 
genuine  and  ripe  scholarship  which  they  had  been 
wise  enough  to  acquire  in  college,  a  source  of 
ample  and  honourable  support  as  long  as  they 
lived.  On  the  other  hand,  I  have  known  many 
examples  of  young  men  who,  with  the  best  oppor- 
tunities, were  lazy  enough,  or  inconsiderate  enough 
to  make  all  their  studies  slight  and  superficial,  and 
who  afterwards  found,  to  their  mortification  and 
loss,  that  they  had  not  scholarship  sufficient  to 
qualify  them  for  any  of  the  situations  to  which 
they  might  otherwise  have  aspired,  and  which 
would  have  secured  them  both  comfort  and 
honour. 

I  entreat  you,  then,  my  dear  sons,  not  to  cheat 
yourselves  in  regard  to  this  matter.  For,  truly, 
every  young  man  may  be  said  to  cheat  himself, 
more  than  he  cheats  his  teachers  or  his  guardians, 
wlien  he  slights  or  neglects  the  study  of  any  im- 
portant branch  of  knowledge  which  belongs  to  a 
liberal  education.  By  so  doing,  he  diminishes  his 
own  treasures,  and  lessens  his  own  power,  both  of 
doing  good,  and  of  obtaining  pre-eminence  in  life. 


190  PARTICULAR  STUDIES. 

The  more  you  can  store  your  minds,  with  every 
species  of  useful  knowledge,  the  better  prepared 
you  will  be  to  "serve  your  generation  by  the  will 
of  God,"  and  to  attain  that  true  honour  among  men, 
which  the  union  of  knowledge  and  virtue  never 
fails  to  secure. 

But,  notwithstanding  this  general  principle,  which 
ought  to  govern  every  student,  it  cannot  be  doubted 
that  there  are  some  branches  of  knowledge  more 
radical  in  their  value  and  influence  than  others, 
and  which,  therefore,  ought  to  be  cultivated  with 
peculiar  zeal  and  diligence.  If,  therefore,  you  ask 
me,  which  of  all  the  studies  prescribed  in  your  col- 
legiate course,  you  ought  to  regard  with  especial 
favour,  and  to  cultivate  with  special  preference 
and  labour,  I  would,  without  the  least  hesitation, 
say,  they  are  the  ancient  languages,  and 
MATHEMATICS.  Study  to  be  at  home  in  all  the 
branches  prescribed  for  your  course;  but  in  these 
make  a  point  of  being  strong,  mature  and  rich.  If 
you  should  be  compelled,  by  feeble  health,  or  by 
any  other  consideration,  to  pass  more  hastily  than 
you  could  wish  over  any  particular  studies,  let 
neither  of  these  two  be  of  the  number.  They  are 
fundamental  in  all  intellectual  culture,  and,  when 
in  any  good  degree  mastered,  diffuse  an  influence 
over  all  the  other  departments  of  knowledge  which 
every  good  scholar  will  perceive,  and  which  none 
but  a  good  scholar  can  appreciate. 


PARTICULAR  STUDIES.  191 

You  are  aware  that  some  of  the  friends  of  Uberal 
knowledge  in  general  have  laboured  hard  to  de- 
press the  claims  of  classical  literature  as  an  indis- 
pensable part  even  of  a  coUegial  course  of  study. 
But  the  longer  I  reflect  on  the  subject,  the  deeper 
is  my  conviction  that  all  such  efforts  are  the  result 
either  of  ignorance,  or  of  that  deplorable  infatu- 
ation which  is  sometimes  found  to  enslave  the 
minds  of  men  whose  knowledge  ought  to  have 
made  them  wiser.  I  am  ready,  indeed,  to  grant 
that  the  study  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  languages 
ought  not  to  be  enjoined  on  every  youth  who  seeks 
to  gain,  in  any  degree,  a  literary  and  scientific 
education.  If  a  young  man  should  contemplate 
being  a  merchant,  or  an  artist,  or  extensive  planter, 
or  a  mechanic,  I  should  by  no  means  urge  him  to 
devote  much  of  his  time  to  the  study  of  classic 
literature.  Yet  if  even  such  an  one  had  leisure  for 
it,  and  could  afford  the  expense,  he  might  be  better 
qualified  to  adorn  and  to  enjoy  the  pursuit  to 
which  he  devoted  himself  by  the  richest  classical 
acquirements.  Not  only  might  he  derive  from  that 
species  of  knowledge  a  rational  and  very  elevated 
enjoyment  by  the  gratification  of  taste;  but  he 
might  be  able  to  conduct  his  employment,  what- 
ever it  was,  upon  a  more  liberal  scale;  upon  more 
improved  principles;  and  with  a  taste  and  intelli- 
gence wholly  unattainable  without  it.  I  would 
certainly  say,  then,  to  every  young  man  who  could 


192  PARTICULAR  STUDIES. 

command  the  means  for  the  purpose,  "  Whatever 
may  be  your  contemplated  pursuit  in  Wk,  make  a 
point  of  gaining  as  much  classic  literature  as  you 
can.  It  will  be  an  ornament  and  a  gratification  to 
you  as  long  as  you  live.  It  will  enlarge  your 
views,  discipline  your  mind,  augment  your  moral 
and  intellectual  power,  and  prepare  you  for  more 
extensive  and  elevated  usefulness." 

Such  would  be  my  address  to  everi/  young  man 
who  had  the  opportunity  of  making  the  attainment 
in  question.  But,  with  respect  to  what  is  denomi- 
nated a  "liberal  education" — such  an  education  as 
is  commonly  understood  to  be  given  in  colleges,  all 
intelligent  men; — all  except  a  few  intellectual  fana- 
tics—contend for  classical  literature  as  an  indis- 
pensable part  of  the  course.  May  it  ever  continue 
to  be  so!  When  colleges  cease  to  make  the  study 
of  Greek  and  Latin  a  necessary  and  a  prominent 
part  of  their  plan  of  instruction,  1  hope  they  will 
abandon  their  charters,  and  no  longer  perpetrate 
the  mockery  of  conferring  degrees. 

It  is  no  longer,  then,  an  open  question,  whether 
you  shall  devote  some  measure  of  your  attention 
to  the  study  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  languages. 
You  musi  be  in  some  degree  acquainted  with  this 
branch  of  knowledge  if  you  would  gain  the 
honours  of  "the  College  of  New  Jersey.''  But  I 
wish  you,  my  dear  sons,  to  go  much  further  than 
this.     It  is  my  earnest  desire  and  injunction  that 


PARTICULAR  STUDIES.  193 

you  make  the  ancient  languages  an  object  of 
special  attention;  that  in  whatever  else  you  are 
deficient,  you  make  a  point  to  be  strong  and 
thorough-going  here.  My  reasons  for  this  injunc- 
tion are  the  following: 

A  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  language,  and  of 
the  right  use  of  speech,  may  be  said  to  be  a  radical 
matter,  both  in  gaining  and  imparting  all  other 
kinds  of  knowledge.  He  who  would  express,  on 
any  subject,  exactly  what  he  means,  and  be  able 
to  know  exactly  what  others  mean,  must  have  an 
exact  acquaintance  with  the  principles  and  powers 
of  language.  The  study  of  the  laws  of  written 
and  vocal  speech,  therefore,  must  lie  at  the  foun- 
dation of  all  intellectual  teaching  and  attainment. 
This  will  be  disputed  by  none  who  is  qualified  to 
judge  in  the  case. 

Now  it  is  impossible  for  any  one  to  understand 
the  essential  principles  of  grammar,  without  being 
acquainted  with  more  languages  than  one.  All 
scholars  are  unanimous  in  maintaining  this  posi- 
tion. But  if  we  must  learn  more  languages  than 
one,  in  order  to  comprehend  the  general  laws 
which  govern  human  speech,  it  is  surely  desi- 
rable to  become  acquainted  with  the  most  perfect 
languages  with  which  the  world  has  ever  been 
favoured.  In  regard  to  those  languages  which 
have  the  highest  claim  to  this  character,  there  is 
great  unanimity  of  opinion  among  learned  men. 
17 


194  PARTICULAR  STUDIES. 

All  agree  that  among  the  languages  withhi  our 
reach  the  Greek  and  Latin  are  the  most  perfect 
instruments  for  the  expression  of  human  thought 
that  the  world  has  ever  known.  They  are  more 
precise  and  copious  in  their  idioms;  more  rich  and 
expressive  in  their  vocabulary;  more  happy  in 
their  collocation;  and  more  delicately  clear,  trans- 
parent and  comprehensive  in  their  whole  structure 
than  any  other  languages  with  which  we  are 
acquainted.  "It  is  the  appropriate  praise  of  the 
best  writers  in  those  languages  that  they  present 
us  with  examples  of  the  most  exquisite  beauty  of 
thought  and  expression  united  with  inimitable 
simplicity;  that  they  scarcely  ever  present  us  with 
one  idle  or  excrescent  phrase  or  word;  that  they 
convey  their  meaning  with  a  brevity,  a  directness, 
a  clearness  and  a  force  which  have  never  been 
exceeded.  Their  lines  dwell  upon  our  memory. 
Their  sentences  have  the  force  of  oracular  maxims. 
Every  part  is  vigorous,  and  very  seldom  can  any 
thing  be  changed  but  for  the  worse.  We  wander 
in  a  scene  where  every  thing  is  luxuriant,  yet  every 
thing  vivid,  graceful  and  correct."  Surely,  then, 
those  who  wish  to  become  acquainted  with  the 
power  of  language  as  an  instrument  of  thought; 
with  the  most  delicate  and  discriminating  shades 
of  meaning  which  it  is  capable  of  expressing;  with 
those  happy  turns  of  expression  by  which  every 
thought  may  be  conveyed  in  the  most  clear,  direct 


PARTICULAR  STUDIES.  195 

and  forcible  manner,  can  engage  in  no  study  better 
adapted  to  refine,  enrich,  and  enlarge  the  mind, 
than  that  of  those  noble  dialects,  which  served  for 
so  many  ages  as  instruments  of  instruction  and 
eloquence  to  the  great  master  minds  of  the  ancient 
world.  Surely  he  who  undervalues  and  neglects 
these  languages,  is  chargeable  with  undervaluing 
and  neglecting  some  of  the  noblest  objects  and 
means  of  knowledge  that  can  well  engage  the 
attention  of  the  student  of  literature  or  science. 

It  is  also  worthy  of  serious  consideration  that 
Greek  is  the  original  language  of  part  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures;  and  that  a  deep  acquaintance  with 
classical  Greek  is  a  most  important  accompUsh- 
ment  in  one  who  undertakes  to  be  a  skilful  inter- 
preter of  the  inspired  volume.  This  consideration 
will  not  fail  to  be  appreciated  by  every  enlightened 
scholar,  and  especially  by  all  who  have  in  view  the 
sacred  office. 

Another  important  consideration  here  is  often 
not  duly  regarded.  In  the  Greek  and  Latin  lan- 
guages there  are  hidden  from  the  vulgar  eye  trea- 
sures of  knowledge  which  are  richly  worthy  of 
being  explored,  but  which  can  never  be  fully  laid 
open  excepting  to  those  who  understand  those 
languages.  Ancient  Greece  and  Rome  furnish  us 
with  the  finest  models  of  history,  of  poetry,  and  of 
various  objects  of  science  and  taste,  which  the 
world  has  ever  possessed.    To  be  ignorant  of  these 


196  PARTICULAR  STUDIES. 

models,  and  of  all  the  facts  and  principles  of  whicii 
they  form  the  dress  and  the  vehicle,  is  indeed  to 
deprive  ourselves  of  an  amount  of  knowledge  of 
which  it  is  difficult  adequately  to  estimate  the 
value.  Let  none  say  that  the  noblest  monuments 
of  Grecian  and  Roman  genius  may  be  fully  made 
known  to  us  by  translation.  No  competent  judge 
of  the  matter  ever  imagined  that  this  was  possible. 
No  ancient  classic  was  ever  so  translated  as  to  give 
an  adequate  idea  of  the  original.  The  fads  which 
they  state  may,  indeed,  be  exhibited  in  a  modern 
tongue;  but  their  native  exquisite  beauties  can 
never  be  expressed  in  such  a  manner  as  to  be  fully 
comprehended  in  another  language.  They  must 
ever  continue  to  be  a  hidden  treasure  to  all  but 
those  who  can  hold  communion  with  the  language 
of  the  original  writer.  Aside,  however,  from  the 
necessary  imperfection  of  all  translations  from  the 
Greek  and  Latin  tongues,  let  it  be  remembered, 
that  large  stores  of  knowledge  embodied  in  those 
languages  have  never  been  translated  at  all  into 
English;  and,  of  course,  are  entirely  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  mere  English  reader. 

Besides;  let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  some  of  the 
ablest  productions  of  the  seventeenth  century, — 
that  age  of  genius  and  of  profound  erudition, — 
were  written  in  the  Latin  language.  The  most 
valuable  treatises  of  Bacon,  Newton,  and  other 
master  spirits  of  that  age  first  appeared  in  Latin. 


PARTICULAR  STUDIES.  197 

Bat  is  it  not  humiliating  to  one  claiming  to  be 
a  scholar  to  be  unable  to  commune  with  those 
eminent  authors  in  their  original  dress? 

But  more  than  this;  we  cannot  really  understand 
our  own  vernacular  tongue  without  a  knowledge 
of  Greek  and  Latin.   No  one  can  take  the  slightest 
survey  of  the  English  language,  or  of  any  of  the 
modern  languages  of  Europe,  without  observing 
how  largely  all  of  them  are  made  up  of  derivatives 
from  Greek  and  Latin.  We  can  scarcely  utter  a  sen- 
tence, especially  in  any  of  the  higher  walks  of  dis- 
course, without  using  many  terms  the  exact  mean- 
ing  of  which   cannot   be   adequately  understood 
without  a  knowledge  of  the  tongues  from  which 
they  are  derived.     We  may,  indeed,  without  this 
knowledge,  have  some  general  idea  of  the  mean- 
ing of  the  terms  thus  employed,  but  of  their  pre- 
cise  meaning  and  force  we  cannot  be  adequate 
judges  without  knowing  something  of  their  etymo- 
logy.  And  hence,  though  we  sometimes  find  those 
who  never  learned  Greek  or  Latin,  who  speak 
and  write  their  own  language   with  force,  and 
sometimes  even  with  eloquence;  yet,  even  in  such 
speakers  and  writers,  the  real  scholar  may  gene- 
rally discern  the  absence  of  that  precision,  appro- 
priateness  and  felicity  of  expression  which  can 
only  be  attained  by  familiarity  with  the  ancient 
classics. 

Nor  is  even  this  all.     When  we  turn  to  the 
17* 


19S  PARTICULAR  STUDIES. 

technical  language  of  any  one  art  or  science  in 
popular  use, — the  language  for  example,  of  Che- 
mistry, of  Zoology,  of  Botany,  of  Mineralogy,  of 
Geology,  &c.,  we  shall  JEind  it  almost  all  borrowed 
from  the  Greek  or  Latin;  and,  of  course,  the  stu- 
dents of  these  sciences,  though  they  Tnay,  with 
great  labour,  learn  the  meaning  of  these  terms  by 
rote;  yet  how  much  better  to  begin  the  study  with 
such  a  knowledge  of  the  ancient  classics  as  will 
save  the  toil  of  committing  to  memory  the  import 
of  terms  which,  to  the  ear  of  the  scholar,  would 
proclaim  their  meaning  as  soon  as  pronounced.  It 
is  evident,  therefore,  that  he  who  addresses  him- 
self to  the  study  of  any  of  the  branches  of  know- 
ledge of  which  I  speak,  having  previously  acquired 
a  competent  knowledge  of  Greek  and  Latin,  will 
find  his  labour  more  than  half  abridged,  and  will 
proceed  with  more  ease,  with  more  intelligence, 
and  with  more  accuracy  at  every  step. 

If,  then,  you  desire  to  obtain  a  clear  knowledge 
and  thorough  mastery  of  language  as  an  instru- 
ment of  thought;  if  you  desire  to  be  really  at  home 
in  your  own  language;  if  you  wish  to  form  a  pure, 
precise,  lucid,  happy  style;  if  you  would  furnish 
yourselves  with  a  happy  instrumentality  for  enter- 
ing and  advantageously  pursuing  every  other 
branch  of  knowledge;  if  you  would  become  mas- 
ter, either  in  speaking  or  writing,  of  a  rich,  copious, 
exact,  discriminating  vocabulary;    if  you   would 


PARTICULAR  STUDIES.  199 

gain  that  knowledge  of  antiquity  which  will  serve 
an  invaluable  purpose  whatever  your  pursuits  may 
be,  and  which  in  some  professions  is  indispensable; 
if  you  would  adopt  one  of  the  most  effectual  means 
for  the  discipline  of  the  mind;  if  you  desire  to  be 
able  to  read  the  best  English  classics  with  the 
highest  degree  of  taste,  pleasure,  and  profit;  and  if 
you  would  be  furnished  with  some  of  the  very 
finest  means  of  ornament  and  illustration  in  all  the 
higher  walks  of  discourse; — make  a  point  of  being, 
as  far  as  possible,  profound  and  accurate  clas- 
sical SCHOLARS.  Rich  attainments  in  this  depart- 
ment of  knowledge  will  shed  a  lustre  and  a  glory 
over  every  other.  They  will  render  the  study  of 
every  other  more  easy,  more  pleasant,  and  more 
valuable.  They  will  enlarge  your  minds,  and  your 
power  of  applying  them  both  usefully  and  orna- 
mentally, to  an  extent  not  easily  measured.  And  if, 
in  the  providence  of  God,  you  should  fail  of  success 
in  any  particular  profession,  a  thorough  knowledge 
of  the  classics  will  open  a  door  to  emolument  and 
honour,  in  whatever  part  of  the  world,  or  in  what- 
ever circumstances  you  may  be  thrown.  Were  I 
called  upon  to  mention  that  accomplishment  which, 
united  with  a  fair  moral  and  religious  character, 
would  most  certainly  secure  to  its  possessor  an  ample 
and  respectable  support,  I  should  undoubtedly  say, 
it  is  that  of  a  sound  and  accurate  classical  scholar. 
Let  me  enjoin  it  upon  you,  then,  in  every  part 


200  PARTICULAR  STuMES. 

of  yoiu'  college  course  to  pay  special  and  unre- 
mitting attention  to  the  Greek  and  Latin  classics. 
Study  some  portion  of  them  every  day,  whether 
your  prescribed  task  requires  it  or  not.  Never  pass 
over  a  sentence  without  analysing  it  thoroughly, 
and  going  to  the  bottom  both  of  its  terms  and  its 
connected  import.  Never  let  a  week  pass  without 
engaging  in  both  Greek  and  Latin  composition. 
Familiarize  yourselves  to  double  translations,  i.  e. 
from  these  languages,  and  into  them  again.  I 
hardly  know  a  more  rigorous  and  improving  intel- 
lectual discipline  than  that  of  faithful  and  accurate 
translations  from  the  ancient  classics,  and  then, 
laying  the  book  aside,  attempting  to  restore  the 
original.  Be  in  the  habit  of  committing  to  memory 
passages  of  remarkable  significance  and  beauty  in 
those  languages;  and  think  it  not  too  much  to  form 
a  little  club  of  half  a  dozen  fellow  students  for  the 
purpose  of  speaking  Latin,  whenever  you  come 
together.  If  I  had  my  coUegial  life  to  live  over 
again,  I  would  certainly  make  a  point  of  forming 
such  an  association,  and  of  being  one  of  its  mem- 
bers. Its  members  should  spend  an  hour  together 
at  least  once  a  week;  and  one  of  its  strictest  rules 
should  be  not  to  utter  a  single  word  in  conversa- 
tion, when  together,  in  any  other  language  than 
Greek  or  Latin.  This  is  a  hint,  rely  upon  it,  wor- 
thy of  regard.  I  have  repeatedly  been  placed  in 
circumstances  in  which  1  had  no  means  of  con- 


PARTICULAR  STUDIES.  201 

versing  with  learned  foreigners  but  in  Latin.  To 
be  able  to  speak  it  with  some  degree  of  readiness, 
is  not  only  a  great  convenience,  but  an  elegant 
accomplishment. 

But  while,  among  the  regular  studies  of  the  col- 
lege, I  unhesitatingly  assign  the  first  place  in 
importance  to  classic  literature,  I  must,  with  equal 
decision,  assign  the  second  place  to  mathematics, 
as  one  of  those  radical,  governing  studies  which 
diffuse  over  the  whole  mind,  and  all  its  acquire- 
ments, a  salutary  influence. 

It  is  a  common  thing  for  young  men  to  dislike 
mathematics,  and  to  consider  a  taste  for  this  depart- 
ment of  knowledge  as  the  mark  of  a  plodding  and 
dull  mind.  They  conceive  of  its  principles  as 
insufferably  dry,  and  of  its  results  as  in  a  great 
measure  useless.  Hence  they  are  often  known  to 
despise  it,  and  to  boast  of  their  having  no  taste  for 
it.  But  can  it  be  that  the  science  of  numbers  and 
quantity;  the  science  which  treats  so  essentially  of 
the  relations  and  proportions  of  things;  the  science 
which  investigates  and  establishes  truth  by  the 
closest  possible  reasoning,  nay  by  the  most  rigid 
demonstration,  can  be  a  study  of  small  value,  or  of 
doubtful  benefit?  Can  it  be  that  such  a  science, 
either  in  respect  to  its  intrinsic  character,  or  its 
influence  on  the  minds  of  those  who  study  it,  can 
be  of  little  use?  None  but  the  grossly  ignorant 
can  entertain  such  an  opinion.     The  fact  is,  as  the 


202  PARTICULAR  STUDIES. 

Study  of  language  lies  at  the  foundation  of  all 
accurate  acquirement,  and  all  successful  communi- 
cation of  knowledge;  so  the  essential  principles  of 
mathematics,  in  the  widest  sense  of  that  term, 
may  be  said  to  enter  more  deeply  into  all  the  pro- 
cesses of  analysis  and  demonstrative  reasoning, 
than  can  be  stated  in  a  short  compass.  The  influ- 
ence of  this  branch  of  study  on  the  intellectual 
powers  is  connected  with  the  most  salutary  disci- 
pline. It  prepares  and  accustoms  the  mind  to 
examine  the  relations  of  things;  to  deduce  and 
weigh  evidence;  to  pursue  close  and  rigid  reason- 
ing; and  to  guard  against  the  errors  of  false  deduc- 
tion. Though  you  may  never  have  much  occasion 
in  your  future  lives  to  make  any  direct  use  of  the 
algebra  or  the  geometry  which  you  may  acquire 
in  college;  though  you  may  never  be  called  upon 
to  survey  a  piece  of  land,  to  conduct  a  ship  on  the 
ocean,  to  calculate  a  parallax,  or  an  eclipse,  or  to 
estimate  the  height  of  a  mountain,  or  the  distance 
of  a  planet;  though  you  may  sometimes  imagine, 
when  you  are  required  to  repeat  the  demonstra- 
tions of  Euclid,  and  to  enter  into  the  niceties  of 
Integral  and  Differential  Calculus,  that  they  will 
never  be  of  any  use  to  you  in  time  to  come; — yet, 
be  assured,  there  never  was  a  greater  mistake.  No 
young  man  can  pursue  studies  better  adapted  to 
enlarge  and  discipline  his  mind;  to  subject  it  to 
legitimate  rule;  to  form  the  best  reasoning  habits; 


PARTICULAR  STUDIES.  203 

to  prepare  him  for  analysing  the  most  complicated 
subjects,  and  for  tracing  and  collecting  the  most 
complicated  and  diverging  rays  of  evidence.  In 
short,  if  I  were  perfectly  sure  that  my  sons  would 
never  have  occasion  while  they  lived  to  make  any 
immediate  practical  use  of  a  single  mathematical 
study  to  which  they  devoted  their  time,  I  would 
still  say,  by  all  means  study  these  subjects  with 
persevering  diligence  and  ardour.  They  will  bene- 
fit your  minds,  and  facilitate  the  acquisition  of 
other  branches  of  knowledge  in  a  thousand  ways, 
of  which  you  can  now  very  imperfectly  conceive. 
The  mineralogist,  the  geologist,  the  chemist,  and 
the  professor  of  the  healing  art,  often  need  to  call 
mathematical  science  to  their  aid,  as  well  as  the 
surveyor,  the  navigator,  and  the  practical  astrono- 
mer. The  advocate  at  the  bar,  in  a  multitude  of 
cases,  cannot  do  even  tolerable  justice,  either  to  his 
cause  or  his  client,  without  an  acquaintance  witli 
the  principles  of  mathematics.  And  scarcely  any 
department  of  natural  philosophy  can  be  advan- 
tageously studied,  and  some  of  them  not  at  all, 
without  the  aid  of  this  noble  science.  Accordingly, 
the  author  of  "  Lacorij  or  many  things  in  few 
words,"  remarks,  "  He  that  gives  a  portion  of  his 
time  and  talent  to  the  investigation  of  mathematical 
truth,  will  come  to  all  other  questions  with  a  de- 
cided advantage  over  his  opponents.  He  will  be 
in  argument  what  the  ancient  Romans  were  in  the 


204  PARTICULAR  STUDIES. 

field.  To  them  the  day  of  battle  was  a  day  of 
comparative  recreation;  because  they  were  ever 
accustomed  to  exercise  with  arms  much  heavier 
than  they  fought;  and  their  reviews  differed  from 
a  real  battle  in  two  respects;  they  encountered 
more  fatigue,  but  the  victory  was  bloodless." — La- 
con,  336. 

The  young  man,  then,  who,  in  the  course  of  his 
education,  neglects  or  undervalues  mathematics, 
betrays  an  ignorance  and  a  natrowness  of  views 
of  the  most  ignoble  kind.  He  congratulates  him- 
self, perhaps,  on  a  conquest  over  his  teachers,  and 
on  a  happy  escape  from  the  demands  of  an  un- 
welcome task.  But  he  cheats  and  injures  himself 
a  thousand  fold  more  than  his  teachers.  He  incurs 
a  loss  and  a  disadvantage  which  he  can  never 
repair.  He  foregoes  a  mental  discipline,  and  a 
species  of  mental  furniture,  for  the  want  of  which 
nothing  can  adequately  compensate.  Rely  upon 
it,  the  more  radical  and  complete  your  mathe- 
matical attainments,  the  better  fitted  you  will  be 
for  whatever  profession  you  may  choose;  the 
greater  will  be  your  power  to  adorn,  and  to  turn 
to  the  best  account  any  profession;  the  more  ample 
will  be  your  capacity  to  serve  eitlier  the  church  or 
the  world  in  your  generation. 

I  return,  then,  to  the  maxim  with  which  I  began. 
Aim,  as  far  as  possible,  to  stand  at  the  head  of 
your  fellow  students  in  every   study.     Neglect 


PARTICULAR  STUDIES.  205 

none:  slight  none.  It  is  impossible  to  decide  con- 
cerning any  one  of  them  that  it  will  not  be  of 
essential  use  to  you  in  after  life.  But  if  you  are 
emulous  to  excel  in  any  particular  branches,  let 
them  by  all  means  be  those  which  I  have  specified. 
You  may  be  incredulous  now  of  the  entire  truth  of 
what  has  been  advanced;  but  by  and  by  you  will 
see  and  acknowledge  it  all.  Let  me  warn  you 
against  postponing  to  admit  and  realize  this  until 
it  be  too  late.  For  if  you  fail  of  making  the 
acquirements  in  question  before  the  close  of  your 
course  in  college,  you  will,  in  all  probability,  never 
make  them  at  all. 


18 


206 


LETTER  XII. 

GENERAL   READING. 

"  Nihil  legebat  quod  non  cxcerperet." — Plin,  Episf. 
"  Ex  animi  relaxatione  divitias  contrahere." — Anon. 

Mt  Dear  Sons, 

I  TAKE  for  granted  that  your  reading  will  not  be 
confined  to  your  class-books.  If  you  possess  any 
measure  of  that  love  of  knowledge,  and  of  that 
activity  and  enlargement  of  mind  which  every 
member  of  a  college  must  be  expected,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  to  desire  and  aim  at,  you  will  endea- 
vour to  carry  along  with  you,  through  all  your 
college  exercises,  some  portion  of  what  is  called 
general  reading; — that  is,  a  kind  and  an  amount 
of  reading  which  may  contribute  toward  rendering 
you,  not  a  mere  academical  student,  but  a  liberal 
and  general  scholar, 

I  also  hope  that  you  will  see  the  importance  of 
subjecting  this  course  of  general  reading  to  some 
digested  plan,  to  a  sound  and  discreet  system  of 
rules.  Surely  one  who  wishes  to  make  the  most 
of  the  powers  that  God  has  given  him,  and  to  reach 


GENERAL  READING.  207 

the  highest  attainments  in  knowledge,  reputation 
and  usefulness,  ought  not  to  surrender  himself  in 
this  matter,  or  in  any  thing  else,  to  the  government 
of  caprice,  or  of  temporary  and  spasmodic  feeling. 
Nothing  is  likely  to  be  well  done  which  is  not  con- 
ducted on  a  plan.  I  hope,  therefore,  my  dear  sons, 
you  will  listen  to  some  counsels  which  I  have-to 
give  you  on  this  subject.  They  may  not  in  all  re- 
spects accord  with  your  taste  or  your  wishes;  but 
they  are  the  result  of  some  experience,  and  they 
are  offered  with  the  sincerest  desire  to  promote 
your  highest  honour  and  happiness. 

I  take  for  granted,  indeed,  that  the  studies  pre- 
scribed by  your  instructors  will  be  attended  to  first 
of  all,  and  will  never  be  neglected.  These  have 
the  first  claim  on  your  time  and  attention,  and  can- 
not without  serious  delinquency  be  postponed  to 
any  incidental  or  capricious  pursuit.  We  are  ac- 
customed to  adopt  as  a  maxim,  that  a  man  ought 
to  be  just  before  he  is  generous.  So,  in  the  case 
before  us — he  who  suffers  himself  to  be  drawn  away 
to  excursive  and  miscellaneous  objects  of  attention, 
while  the  studies  of  his  class  are  neglected,  may 
give  himself  credit  for  liberality  and  enlargement 
of  mind;  but  he  is  guilty  of  a  fraud  on  himself  as 
well  as  on  his  instructors,  and  will  find  in  the  end 
•  that  here,  as  well  as  everywhere  else,  "honesty  is 
the  best  policy."  But  I  liope  your  attention  to  the 
studies  of  your  class  will  be  so  prompt,  so  zealous, 


208  GENERAL  READING. 

and  so  seasonably  completed,  as  to  allow  you  some 
portion  of  time  every  day  for  the  reading  of  which 
I  speak. 

Let  your  general  reading,  then,  be  such  as  is 
adapted  to  be  useful.  Think  of  the  great  ends  of 
education.  They  are  to  form  proper  intellectual 
and  moral  habits,  and  to  fill  the  mind  with  solid, 
laudable  knowledge.  And  as  life  is  so  short,  and 
the  field  of  knowledge  so  very  extensive,  we  can- 
not, of  course,  know  every  thing;  we  cannot  find 
time  to  read  all  the  books  which  are  worthy  of 
being  read.  Of  the  many  within  our  reach  we 
must  make  a  selection',  and  that  this  selection 
ought  to  be  made  with  discrimination  and  judg- 
ment, needs  no  formal  proof.  The  studies  pre- 
scribed by  authority  for  your  classes  will  occupy, 
I  trust,  with  indefatigable  diligence,  the  greater 
part  of  your  time.  Need  I  employ  argument  to 
convince  you  that  the  reading  destined  to  occupy 
the  interstitial  spaces  of  your  time  not  filled  with 
prescribed  studies,  should  be  of  a  kind  adapted  to 
unbend,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  enlighten,  to  en- 
large and  invigorate  the  mind,  and  to  add  to  the 
amount  of  its  valuable  furniture. 

And  here,  I  trust,  it  is  unnecessary  to  put  you  on 
your  guard  against  all  that  reading  which  is  adapted 
to  corrupt  the  principles  and  the  heart.  Were  I  to 
hear  that,  under  the  guise  of  enlarged  and  liberal 
reading,  you  were,  in  your  leisure  moments,  poring 


GENERAL  READING.  209 

over  the  pages  of  Voltaire,  Helvetius,  and  other 
similar  writers,  I  should  consider  you  as  under  an 
awful  delusion,  and  be  ready  to  weep  over  you, 
as  probably  lost  to  virtue  and  happiness,  to  say 
nothing  of  piety.  The  writers  to  whom  I  have 
referred  were  vile  men,  who  devoted  their  learnnig 
and  talents  to  the  worst  purposes;  who  lived  in 
misery  and  died  in  despair  themselves;  and  whose 
lives  and  works  were  adapted  to  corrupt  and  de- 
stroy all  who  held  intercourse  with  them.  Say 
not,  that  he  who  is  forming  his  opinions,  ought  to 
be  willing  to  examine  such  writers,  and  see  what 
they  have  to  say  for  themselves.  I  should  just  as 
soon  regard  with  patience  him  who  should  tell  me, 
that  I  ought  to  examine  and  re-examine  whether 
theft,  lying,  adultery  and  murder  were  really  wrong, 
and  whether  it  was  not  a  mere  prejudice  to  regard 
them  as  crimes.  No,  my  sons,  be  assured  such 
writers  can  do  you  nothing  but  harm.  Their  impiety 
and  complicated  corruption  may  make  you  despise 
your  species,  doubt  of  every  thing,  hate  your  duty, 
and  turn  away  from  all  the  sober  principles  of  action 
and  of  enjoyment;  but,  believe  me,  they  will  never 
make  you  wiser  or  happier  men.  Their  specula- 
tions may  be  compared  to  the  operation  of  poison 
received  into  the  animal  system,  which,  as  long  as 
it  is  lodged  there,  can  never  fail  to  excite  morbid 
action,  but  which  can  seldom  or  never  be  wholly 
18* 


210  GENERAL  READING. 

expelled.  Whatever  may  be  the  effect  of  your 
reading  such  books,  the  result  cannot  but  be  un- 
happy. If  you  adopt  the  errors  which  they  con- 
tain, they  will  be  your  destruction  for  time  and 
eternity;  for  they  will  destroy  all  sober  principle, 
and  all  fitness  to  be  useful  in  life.  And  even  if 
your  moral  constitution  should  be  enabled  to  resist 
and  overcome  the  poison,  it  will  leave  many  an 
ache  and  pain,  and  lay  the  foundation  of  many  a 
morbid  feeling  as  long  as  you  live. 

You  ought,  then,  to  be  as  choice  of  your  books 
for  what  is  called  general  reading,  as  the  prudent 
man  who  is  in  delicate  health  feels  bound  to  be 
in  the  selection  of  his  articles  of  aliment.  There  is 
a  wide  range  of  reading,  comprehending  what  may 
properly  be  called  English  classics,  with  which 
every  educated  man  is  expected  to  have  some 
acquaintance.  None  of  the  works  belonging  to 
this  catalogue  are  class-books,  in  the  technical  sense 
of  that  phrase.  Of  course  they  are  not  included  in 
your  prescribed  studies;  and  unless  you  gain  some 
knowledge  of  them  by  extra  reading,  you  must 
leave  college  without  being  acquainted  with  them. 
This  would  be  at  once  a  disreputable  deficiency, 
and  a  serious  impediment  in  the  way  of  your 
making  the  most  of  your  college  course.  Surely 
before  you  leave  college  you  ought  to  be  able  to 
write  in  your  own  language  with  elegance  and 
force:  but  how  are  you  to  acquire  this  power  with- 


GENERAL  READING.  211 

out  a  familiar  acquaintance  with  some  of  the  best 
writers  of  that  language? 

To  the  list  of  authors  of  whom  I  thus  speak, 
belong  Bacon,  Shakspeare  and  Milton,  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  and  Addison,  Steele,  Pope,  Thomp- 
son, Young,  Goldsmith,  Johnson,  Cowner,  Beattie, 
and  a  number  of  others,  of  the  eighteenth;  to  which 
may  be  added  Clarendon,  Robertson,  Hume,  and 
several  more  who  have  figured  as  votaries  of  the 
historic  muse.  In  this  catalogue  I  have  forborne 
to  insert  the  names  of  some  writers  greatly  distin- 
guished as  theologians,  because,  however  worthy 
of  universal  study,  popular  feeling  does  not  gene- 
rally require  that  they  should  be  the  objects  of 
youthful  study.  But  there  are  two  works,  even  of 
this  class,  which  I  cannot  help  singling  out  as  indis- 
pensable objects  of  attention  on  the  part  of  all  culti- 
vated thinkers.  I  refer  to  Butler's  Analogy,  and 
Edwards's  treatise  on  the  Will.  What  would  be 
thought  of  an  educated  young  man  who  had  no 
acquaintance  with  any  of  the  eminent  writers  just 
named  but  by  hearsay?  True,  indeed,  a  few  of 
these  writers  are  not  wholly  unexceptionable  in 
regard  to  the  moral  character  of  some  of  their 
pages;  but  their  intellectual  and  literary  eminence 
is  transcendent;  and  when  read  with  discrimination 
and  caution,  the  youthful  aspirant  to  knowledge 
and  eloquence  may  derive  from  them  the  richest 
advantages.    The  truth  is,  without  an  acquaintance 


212  GENERAL  READING. 

with  the  mass  of  these  writers,  you  cannot  appre- 
ciate the  riches,  the  beauties,  or  the  purity  of  your 
vernacular  tongue,  or  hope  successfully  to  train 
yourselves  to  a  good  style  of  writing.  In  these 
writers,  too,  you  will  find  a  great  store-house  of 
fine  sentiment,  as  well  as  of  happy  diction,  adapted 
greatly  to  enlarge  and  elevate  the  mind,  to  impart 
to  it  the  highest  polish,  and  to  prepare  it  for  its  best 
efforts.  No  matter  what  the  profession  may  be  to 
which  you  intend  to  devote  your  lives.  In  any 
and  every  walk  of  life  you  will  find  a  familiarity 
with  these  English  classics  of  inestimable  value. 
No  man  ever  heard  Alexander  Hamilton  or  Daniel 
Webster  plead  at  the  bar,  without  perceiving  the 
potency  of  the  weapons  which  they  continually 
derived  from  their  acquaintance  with  this  class  of 
writings.  Who  ever  listened  to  the  speeches  of 
John  Quincy  Adams,  or  Henry  Clay,  or  any  of  their 
noble  compeers,  in  the  Senate-house,  without  recog- 
nising how  largely  this  department  of  reading 
added  to  the  riches,  the  fascination,  and  the  power 
of  their  eloquence?  It  might  be  supposed,  at  first 
view,  that  the  masters  of  the  healing  art  could 
derive  but  little  aid,  either  in  practising  or  teaching 
their  favourite  science,  from  an  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  the  best  English  classics.  But  the 
slightest  acquaintance  with  the  most  distinguished 
medical  writers  and  teachers  of  Great  Britain,  will 
show  the  egregious  error  of  this  estimate.     And 


GENERAL  READING.  213 

who  ever  attended  the  lectures  or  perused  the  writ- 
ings of  Doctor  Rush,  of  our  own  country,  not  to 
mention  others  still  living,  without  perceiving  what 
grace  and  power  this  kind  of  knowledge  imparted  to 
all  the  products  of  his  lips  and  his  pen?  With  respect 
to  the  pulpit,  I  will  not  insult  your  understandings 
by  attempting  to  show  that  the  large  and  general 
reading  of  which  1  speak  is  of  inestimable  value  in 
its  bearing  on  the  matter  as  well  as  the  manner  of 
the  instructions  given  from  week  to  week  by  those 
who  occupy  the  sacred  desk.  In  short,  he  who 
expects  to  be  able  to  address  his  fellow  men,  in 
any  situation,  or  on  any  snbject,  in  an  attractive 
and  deeply  impressive  manner,  without  the  diligent 
study  of  the  principles  and  powers  of  the  language 
in  which  he  speaks  or  writes,  cherishes  a  vain 
expectation.  And  he  who  imagines  that  these 
principles  and  powers  are  to  be  learned  without 
the  careful  study  of  those  writers  who  have  fur- 
nished the  best  examples  of  both,  might  as  well 
hope  to  "  gather  grapes  of  thorns,  or  figs  of  this- 
tles." 

If  you  are  wise,  then,  you  will  devote  all  those 
hours  which  you  can  spare  from  your  prescribed, 
studies  to  books  which  you  can  turn  to  rich  account 
in  disciplining  and  enlarging  your  minds,  and  in 
filling  them  with  solid  furniture.  Something,  in- 
deed, in  making  your  selection,  is  to  be  referred  to 
personal  taste;  for  that  reading  which  is  not  pursued 


214  GENERAL  READING. 

con  amove,  as  well  as  with  close  attention,  will 
profit  you  little;  but  still  judgment  ought  to  be  per- 
mitted to  step  in  and  regulate  the  taste.  He  who 
refuses  to  do  this,  and  consults  his  inclination,  for 
the  time  being  alone,  will,  no  doubt,  live  and  die  a 
very  small  and  probably  useless  man. 

In  prescribing  a  plan  for  general  reading  for 
students  in  college,  there  is  one  question  which  I 
presume  you  will  not  fail  to  ask,  and  which  I  wish  to 
anticipate  and  answer  in  this  little  system  of  coun- 
sels. The  question  is,  whether  novels  ought  to 
have  any  place  in  the  list  of  books  assigned  for  the 
"  general  reading"  of  students?  This  is  a  question 
of  exceeding  great  importance.  When  I  was  my- 
self a  student  in  a  college,  more  than  half  a  century 
ago,  it  was  far  less  interesting  and  momentous  as 
a  practical  matter  than  it  has  now  become.  At 
that  time  the  number  of  this  class  of  writings  was 
so  small,  and  their  popular  circulation,  compara- 
tively, so  inconsiderable,  that  their  influence  was 
scarcely  worthy  of  notice  compared  with  that  which 
they  now  exert,  and  which  they  are  every  day  ex- 
tending. What  amount  of  prevalence  and  of  in- 
fluence they  are  to  reach  at  last,  is  one  of  those 
painful  portents  on  which  I  dare  not  allow  my 
mind  to  dwell.  In  the  mean  lime,  with  all  the 
solicitude  of  a  father's  heart,  I  will  offer  you  some 
counsels  which,  "whether  you  will  hear  or  whether 


GENERAL  READING.  215 

you  will  forbear,"  appear  to  me  worthy  of  your 
most  serious  regard. 

That  the  form  of  fictitious  history  to  which  the 
name  of  novel*  is  given,  is  not  necessarily  and  in 
its  own  nature  criminal,  will  probably  be  acknow- 
ledged by  all.  Nay,  that  it  may,  when  constructed 
on  proper  principles,  and  executed  in  a  proper 
manner,  be  made  productive  of  solid  utility,  is  too 
plain  to  be  doubted.  It  was  on  this  principle  that 
the  infinitely  wise  Author  of  our  holy  religion  fre- 
quently adopted  the  form  o{ parable  for  communi- 
cating the  most  important  truths  to  his  hearers. 
And  on  the  same  principle,  some  of  the  wisest 
human  teachers  have  used  the  vehicle  of  Uvely  and 

*  Many  do  not  seem  to  make  the  proper  distinction  between  the 
terms  Romance  and  Novel.  Yet  there  is  a  distinction  between 
them  which  ought  to  be  kept  up.  Romance  seems  properly  ap- 
plicable only  to  a  narrative  of  extraordinary  adventures,  not  merely 
fictitious,  but  wild,  extravagant,  improbable,  far  removed  from  com- 
men  life,  if  not  bordering  on  the  supernatural;  while  the  word 
Novel,  more  strictly,  and  by  exact  speakers  and  writers,  is  in- 
tended to  express  that  species  of  fictitious  writing  which  professes 
to  instruct  or  entertain  by  describing  common  life  and  real  cha- 
racters. The  earliest  fictitious  narratives  were  chiefly  of  the 
former  kind.  They  abounded  in  stories  of  giants,  dragons,  en- 
chanted  castles,  fairies,  ghosts,  and  all  the  heroic  absurdities  of 
knight-errantry.  The  aim  of  those  who  have  figured  most  in  the 
more  recent  class  of  fictitious  narrative  called  novels,  has  been  to 
describe  the  natural  and  probable  exhibitions  of  real  life,  and  of 
modern  manners,  and  to  instruct  by  the  ordinary  scenes  of  social 
and  domestic  intercourse. 


216  GENERAL  READING. 

interesting  fiction,  known  to  be  such  at  the  tinae, 
for  insinuating  into  the  mind  moral  and  rehgious 
lessons  which,  in  a  different  form,  might  not  so 
readily  have  gained  admittance.  It  is  obvious, 
then,  that  to  this  kind  of  writing,  a*  *wc^,  there  can 
be  no  solid  objection.  Novels  might  be  so  written 
as  to  promote  the  cause  of  knowledge,  virtue  and 
piety;  to  lead  the  mind  insensibly  from  what  is 
sordid  and  mean  to  more  worthy  pursuits,  and  to 
inspire  it  with  elevated  and  worthy  sentiments. 
Nay,  it  may  be  conceded  that  out  of  the  myriads  of 
novels  with  which  the  literary  world  has  been 
deluged,  a  feiu  are,  in  fact,  in  some  degree  entitled 
to  this  character,  and  adapted  to  produce  these 
effects. 

But  the  great  unhappiness  of  modern  times  in 
regard  to  this  subject  is  two-fold;  Jirst,  in  multi- 
plying works  of  this  kind  until  they  bear  an  inor- 
dinate and  injurious  proportion  in  the  current 
literature  of  the  day;  and,  secondly,  in  constructing 
many  of  them  upon  a  plan  adapted  to  degrade 
virtue  and  piety,  and  even  to  recommend  vice, 
and,  of  course,  to  prove  seductive  and  immoral  in 
their  whole  influence. 

Even  when  such  works  are  perfectly  unexcep- 
tionable in  their  moral  character;  when  they  are 
wholly  free  from  any  thing  corrupt,  either  in  lan- 
guage or  sentiment,  they  may  be  productive  of 
incalculable  mischief,  if,  as  now,  they  are  issued 


GENERAL  READING.  217 

in  excessive  numbers  and  quantity.  Leaving  the 
character  of  modern  novels  entirely  out  of  the 
question,  the  enormous  number  of  them,  which  for 
the  last  half  century  has  been  every  day  increasing, 
has  become  a  grievous  intellectual  and  moral  nui- 
sance. As  long  as  they  were  few  in  number,  and 
were  regarded,  not  as  the  substance,  but  only  as 
the  seaso7iing  of  the  literary  feast,  they  occupied 
but  a  small  portion  of  public  attention.  The  chief 
time  and  attention  of  the  reading  portion  of  the 
community  were  mainly  devoted  to  works  of  sub- 
stantial value,  fitted  to  strengthen,  enlarge,  and 
enrich  the  mind.  But  within  the  last  thirty  or 
forty  years,  the  number  of  works  of  this  class  has 
multiplied  so  rapidly;  they  have  become  so  promi- 
nent and  alluring  a  part  of  the  current  literature  of 
the  day;  and  by  their  stimulating  and  inexhaust- 
ible variety,  have  so  drawn  away  the  minds  of 
the  aged  as  well  as  the  young  from  solid  works, 
that  they  have  come  to  form  the  principal  reading 
of  a  large  portion  of  the  community,  and,  of  course, 
have  become  a  snare  and  an  injury  to  an  extent 
not  easily  calculated.  As  long  as  exhilarating 
gases,  or  other  stimulating  substances,  are  ad- 
minstered  sparingly,  and  as  medicines,  they  may 
be  altogether  harmless,  and  even  essentially  useful. 
But,  when  those  who  have  taken  them  for  some 
time  in  this  manner,  become  so  enamoured  with 
them  as  to  be  no  longer  satisfied  with  their  raode- 
19 


218  GENERAL  READING. 

rate  and  salutary  use,  but  make  them  their  daily 
and  principal  aliment,  they  become  inevitably  mis- 
chievous. They  destroy  the  tone  of  the  stomach, 
and,  in  the  end,  radically  undermine  the  health. 

So  it  is  with  the  insidious  excitement  of  novels. 
Were  a  young  man  to  take  none  of  them  into  his 
hands  but  those  which  might  be  safely  pronounced 
pure  and  innocent;  and  were  he  certain  that  he 
would  never  be  tempted  to  go  beyond  the  most 
moderate  bounds  in  seeking  and  perusing  even 
such,  there  would,  perhaps,  be  little  danger  to  be 
apprehended.  But  no  one  can  be  thus  certain  of 
either.  The  general  stimulus  of  fictitious  narrative, 
as  actually  administered,  is  morbid  and  mischie- 
vous. It  excites  the  mind,  but  cannot  fill  or  nourish 
it.  The  probability  is,  that  he  who  allows  himself 
to  enter  this  course,  will  be  led  on,  like  the  mise- 
rable tippler,  from  one  stage  of  indulgence  to  ano- 
ther, until  his  appetite  is  perverted;  his  power  of 
self-denial  and  self-government  lost;  and  his  ruin 
finally  sealed;  or,  at  least,  his  mind  so  completely 
indisposed  and  unfitted  for  the  sober  realities  of 
practical  wisdom,  for  the  pursuits  of  solid  science 
and  literature,  as  to  be  consigned  to  the  class  of 
superficial  drivellers  as  long  as  he  lives. 

The  truth  is,  novels — even  the  purest  and  best 
of  them — with  very  few  exceptions,  are  adapted, 
not  to  instruct,  but  only  to  amuse;  not  to  enrich 
or  strengthen  the  mind,  but  only  to  exhilarate  it. 


GENERAL  READING.  219 

They  bear  very  much  the  same  relation  to  genuine 
mental  aliment,  that  the  alcoholic  dram  does  to 
solid  food.  They  ever  enervate  the  mind.  They 
generate  a  sickliness  of  fancy,  and  render  the  ordi- 
nary affairs  and  duties  of  life  altogether  uninterest- 
ing and  insipid.  After  wading  through  hundreds 
of  the  most  decent  and  popular  volumes  belonging 
to  this  class — what  has  been  gained?  After  con- 
suming so  many  months  of  precious  time — time 
which  can  never  be  recalled — in  this  reading — 
what  has  been  acquired?  what  has  been  laid  up 
for  future  use?  Nothing — absolutely  nothing!  Not 
a  trace  of  any  thing  really  useful  has  been  left 
behind.  The  days  and  nights  devoted  to  their  pe- 
rusal have  been  lost — totally  lost.  What  infatuation 
is  it  for  a  rational  creature,  who  is  sent  into  the 
world  for  serious  and  important  purposes,  and  who 
is  hastening  to  a  solemn  account,  thus  to  waste 
precious  time;  and,  what  is  worse,  thus  to  pervert 
his  mind,  and,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  to  dis- 
qualify himself  for  sober  employments!  The  cele- 
brated Dr.  Goldsmith,  in  writing  to  his  brother, 
respecting  the  education  of  his  son,  expresses  him- 
self in  the  following  strong  terms,  which  are  the 
more  remarkable  as  he  himself  had  written  one  of 
the  most  popular  novels: — "Above  all  things,  never 
let  your  son  touch  a  romance  or  novel.  These 
paint  beauty  in  colours  more  charming  than  na- 
ture, and  describe  happiness  that  man  never  tastes. 


220  GENERAL  READING. 

How  delusive,  how  destructive  are  those  pictures  of 
consummate  bliss!  They  teach  the  youthful  mind 
to  sigh  after  beauty  and  happiness  which  never 
existed,  to  despise  the  Uttle  good  which  fortune  has 
mixed  in  our  cup,  by  expecting  more  than  she 
ever  gave;  and,  in  general,  take  the  word  of  a  man 
who  has  seen  the  world,  and  has  studied  human 
nature  more  by  experience  than  precepts — take 
my  word  for  it,  I  say,  that  such  books  teach  us  very 
httle  of  the  world."*  He  might  have  gone  further 
and  said,  they  teach  us  little  of  any  thing  worth 
knowing,  and  so  pervert  the  taste  as  to  take  away 
all  relish  for  applying  the  mind  to  any  thing  sober 
or  useful.  Often  have  I  known  young  men  so 
bewitched  by  novels  that  they  could  read  nothing 
else.  They  sought  for  new  works  of  this  class  in 
every  direction;  devoured  them  with  insatiable 
avidity;  lost  all  relish  for  their  regular  prescribed 
studies;  neglected  those  studies  more  and  more; 
and  at  length  closed  their  college  course  miserable 
scholars,  and  utterly  unqualified  for  any  sober 
pursuit. 

But  there  is  another  source  of  evil  in  this  de- 
partment of  literature,  still  more  serious  and  for- 
midable. A  very  large  proportion  of  modern 
novels  are  far  from  being  innocent.  They  are 
positively  seductive  and  corrupting  in  their  ten- 

*  Life  of  Goldsmith,  prefixed  to  his  Miscellaneous  Works. 


GENERAL  READING.  221 

dency.  They  make  virtue  to  appear  contemptible, 
and  vice  attractive,  honourable  and  triumphant. 
Folly  and  crime  have  palliative  and  even  com- 
mendatory names  bestowed  upon  them.  The 
omnipotence  of  love  over  all  obligations  and  all 
duties,  is  continually  maintained,  and  the  extrava- 
gance  of  sinful  passion  represented  as  the  effect 
of  amiable  sensibility.  That  some  ladies,  and  even 
titled  ladies,  have  appeared  in  the  lists  of  author- 
ship of  such  works,  is  one  of  the  mournful  indica- 
tions of  the  taste  of  the  present  day,  and  no  une- 
quivocal testimony  of  the  danger  of  this  class  of 
writings.  And  though  works  of  this  character 
may  be,  at  first,  contemplated  with  abhorrence,  no 
one  can  tell  how  soon  the  mind  may  be  gradually 
and  insidiously  reconciled  to  them,  by  familiarity 
with  their  pestiferous  and  infectious  sentiments. 

There,  is,  indeed,  a  portion  of  modern  novels 
which  millions  of  the  young  and  the  old  have  read 
with  eager  delight,  and  pronounced  not  only  inno- 
cent but  useful;  adapted  to  enlarge  our  knowledge 
of  human  nature,  and  to  inspire  generous  and 
benevolent  sentiments.  These  are  the  numerous 
works  of  this  class  by  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  the 
later  and  less  celebrated,  but  highly  popular  works 
of  Mr.  Dickens,  of  South  Britain.  With  regard  to 
the  former,  I  am  constrained  to  say,  that  my  esti- 
mate is  less  favourable  than  that  of  many  who 
admire  and  praise  them.  Of  the  great  talents  of 
19* 


222  GENERAL  READING. 

Sir  Walter  Scott,  as  evinced  in  these  and  other 
writings,  no  competent  judge  can  entertain  a 
doubt;  and  tliat  his  novels  abound  in  elevated 
sentiments,  in  graphic  deUneation,  and  in  powerful 
diction  from  which  the  aspirant  to  high  literary 
and  moral  excellence  may  learn  much,  is  equally 
evident.  But  those  who  read  intelligently  such 
of  his  works  as  profess  to  take  a  retrospect  of 
Scottish  history,  interwoven  with  fiction,  if  capable 
of  making  a  proper  estimate  of  the  times  and 
characters  which  he  undertakes  to  portray,  will 
perceive  that  the  writer  arrays  himself  against  the 
patriotism  and  the  piety  of  some  of  the  best  men 
that  ever  adorned  the  history  of  his  country;  that 
he  exhibits  orthodoxy  and  zeal  under  the  guise  of 
enthusiasm  and  fanaticism;  that  he  strives  to  cover 
with  dishonour  "men  of  whom  the  world  was  not 
worthy,"  and  to  elevate  and  canonize  their  perse- 
cutors. In  short,  that  the  general  influence  of  his 
works  is  wholly  unfriendly  to  religion.  These 
characteristics  pervade  some  of  the  most  popular 
of  his  novels.  Ought  I,  can  I,  consistently  with 
the  most  sacred  obligations,  advise  that  such  books 
be  put  into  the  hands  of  inexperienced  and  unsus- 
pecting youth,  unaware  of  danger,  and  at  an  age, 
and  in  circumstances  most  likely  to  receive  serious 
injury? 

The   later  and   highly  popular  novels  of  Mr. 
Dickens,  are  not  liable  to  the  most  serious  of  these 


GENERAL  READING.  223 

objections.  They  abound  in  just,  and  sometimes  in 
striking  sentiments,  strongly  and  happily  expressed; 
and  they  lay  open  pictures  of  real  life,  chiefly  of 
the  most  sordid,  vulgar  and  vile  character,  well 
adapted  to  impart  to  youthful  readers  a  knowledge 
of  the  world,  and  especially  of  the  selfish,  fraud- 
ulent, and  degraded  world.  This  is  the  most 
favourable  side  of  the  portrait.  The  most  serious 
objections  are,  that  they  render  the  youthful  mind 
familiar  with  the  ingenuity  and  the  arts  of  low  and 
vulgar  crime;  that  they  introduce  their  readers  as  it 
were  behind  the  scenes  in  the  drama  of  systematic 
and  revolting  wickedness;  and  while  they  tend, 
more  than  most  writings  of  this  class,  to  absorb  the 
mind,  and  give  it  a  distaste  for  solid  knowledge, 
they  impart  nothing  which  can  be  considered  as  an 
equivalent  for  that  which  is  lost. 

Estimating  novels,  then,  not  as  they  might  be 
made,  but  as  they  are  in  fact,  it  may  be  asserted 
that  there  is  no  species  of  reading  which,  habitu- 
ally and  promiscuously  pursued,  has  a  more  direct 
tendency  to  dissipate  and  weaken  the  intellectual 
powers;  to  discourage  the  acquisition  of  valuable 
knowledge;  to  fill  the  mind  with  vain,  unnatural 
and  delusive  ideas;  and  to  deprave  the  moral  taste. 
It  would,  perhaps,  be  difficult  to  assign  any  single 
cause  which  has  contributed  so  much  to  produce 
that  lightness  and  frivolity  which  so  remarkably 
characterize  the  literary  taste  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 


224  GENERAL  READING. 

tury,  as  the  unexampled  multiplication,  and  the 
astonishing  popularity  of  this  class  of  writings. 

I  have,  therefore,  no  hesitation,  my  dear  sons,  in 
saying,  that,  if  it  were  practicable,  I  would  wholly 
exclude  novels  from  your  general  reading;  not 
because  there  are  none  which  may  be  perused  with 
some  profit;  but  because  the  hope  that,  out  of  the 
polluted  and  pestiferous  mass  continually  presented 
to  the  youthful  mind,  a  tolerably  wise  choice  will 
generally,  or  even  in  many  instances,  be  made,  can 
scarcely  be  thought  a  reasonable  hope.  If  I  could 
hope  to  succeed,  then,  in  such  counsel,  I  would  say, 
throw  away  all  your  novels.  If  you  wish  to  form 
a  sober,  practical,  robust  intellectual  character, 
throw  them  all  away;  banish  them  from  your  study. 
They  will  never  help  you  in  reaching  either  useful- 
ness or  solid  fame. 

As,  however,  these  fictitious  productions  are 
strewed  around  us  in  such  profusion,  and  will  more 
or  less  excite  the  curiosity  of  youth,  the  plan  of 
total  exclusion  is  seldom  practicable.  In  these 
circumstances  it  is,  perhaps,  the  wisest  course  to 
endeavour  to  restrain  and  regulate  the  curiosity 
which  cannot  be  wholly  repressed,  and  to  exercise 
the  utmost  vigilance  in  making  a  proper  choice  for 
its  gratification,  and  in  restricting  this  gratification 
within  the  smallest  possible  bounds.  For  it  may, 
with  confidence,  be  pronounced,  that  no  one  ivas 
ever  an   extensive,  and  especially  an  habitual 


GENERAL  READING.  225 

reader  of  novels,  even  supposing  them  all  to  be 
well  selected,  loithout  suffering  both  intellectual 
and  moral  injury,  and,  of  course,  incurring  a 
diminution  of  happiness. 

But  the  trash  which  is  everywhere  spread 
around  the  youth  of  our  land  under  the  name  of 
novels,  is  not  the  only  form  of  light  reading  that  is 
adapted  to  dissipate  the  mind,  to  degrade  the  taste, 
and  to  work  intellectual  and  moral  injury  in  all 
who  yield  to  the  prevalent  mania.  The  time  that 
is  devoted  by  the  young  men  in  our  literary  insti- 
tutions to  the  perusal  of  literary  and  political  jowr- 
nals,  of  magazines,  and  the  multiplied  forms  of 
light  periodicals,  which  everywhere  solicit  their 
attention,  forms  so  serious  an  evil,  that  every  stu- 
dent who  values  his  time,  and  desires  to  attain  the 
solid  improvement  of  his  talents,  ought  to  be  aware 
of  it,  and,  from  the  outset  of  his  course,  to  be  on  his 
guard  against  it.  The  fact  is,  the  number  of  ephe- 
meral periodicals  has  become  so  enormously  great, 
and  every  day  so  importunately  solicit  the  attention 
of  those  who  have  any  taste  for  reading,  that  they 
leave  little  time  for  studying  any  thing  better.  Nor 
is  this  all.  They  distract  the  attention  of  the  stu- 
dent; seduce  him  from  scources  of  more  profound, 
systematic,  and  useful  information;  and  are  fitted 
to  form  pedants  and  index-hunters,  rather  than 
men  of  real  erudition.  On  this  account,  the  read- 
ing of  literary  young  men,  within  the  last  forty  or 


226  GENERAL  READING. 

fifty  years,  has  become  far  less  solid  than  formerly. 
Many  of  the  best  works  of  the  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  centuries  have  been  crowded  out  of 
view  by  compends,  compilations,  and  a  thousand 
ephemeral  productions;  not  merely  because  the 
taste  for  better  works  has  been  in  a  great  measure 
lost,  by  superficial  habits;  but  because  the  number 
of  these  ephemeral  and  catchpenny  trifles  is  so 
great  as  absolutely  to  leave  little  time,  and,  in  many 
cases,  no  time  for  any  thing  better. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  seventeenth  century 
was  the  age  of  genius.  The  eighteenth,  it  is  ac- 
knowledged, exceeded  it  in  taste;  but  in  original 
poiverful  thinkers,  the  seventeenth  appears  to  me  to 
stand  unrivaled.  He  who  will  look  over  the  list  of 
the  eminent  men  who,  during  that  century,  adorned 
Great  Britain  and  the  continent  of  Europe,  will  be, 
I  cannot  doubt,  of  the  opinion,  that  no  such  cata- 
logue can  be  found  in  any  other  age  of  the  last 
eighteen  hundred  years.  To  say  nothing  of  the 
illustrious  divines  who  distinguished  that  period, 
who  can  recollect  the  names  of  Bacon,  Shakspeare, 
Newton,  Selden,  Boyle,  Hale,  Locke,  Milton,  Coke, 
Des  Cartes,  Grotius,  Leibnitz,  Galileo,  the  Bernoulis, 
and  many  more,  without  feeling  that  they  were 
among  the  mightiest  minds  that  the  world  ever 
saw?  These  men  were  the  great  original  thinkers 
of  modern  times;  and  certainly  those  who  allow 
themselves  to  be  ignorant  of  their  works,  forego 


GENERAL  READING.  227 

one  of  the  richest  means  of  enhghtening  and  invi- 
gorating the  mind  within  their  reach.  How  unwise, 
then,  are  those  youth,  who,  while  they  profess  to 
be  students,  profess  to  be  seeking  the  best  improve- 
ment of  their  talents,  the  best  preparation  to  shine 
in  the  highest  walks  of  life,  really  adopt  a  course 
adapted  to  make  them  superficial  triflers;  instead  of 
men  of  solid,  profound  and  powerful  accomplish- 
ments. Rely  upon  it,  if  you  wish  to  take  rank  with 
any  of  the  eminent  men  whose  names  have  been 
mentioned  as  adorning  the  seventeenth  century,  or 
even  with  many  who  have  appeared  in  our  own 
country  within  the  last  fifty  years;  you  must  devote 
yourselves,  as  they  did,  to  solid,  systematic,  and 
unwearied  study,  and  not  waste  your  time  with 
the  periodicals  and  compends  which  may,  from  time 
to  time,  engage  the  popular  attention. 

After  writing  the  above,  I  was  not  a  little  grati- 
fied to  find  my  opinion  confirmed  by  so  competent 
an  authority  as  that  of  Judge  Story,  of  Massa- 
chusetts, whose  taste,  scholarship,  and  sound  judg- 
ment impart  peculiar  weight  to  his  decisions  on 
such  a  subject,  especially  when  it  is  recollected  that 
none  who  know  him  will  ascribe  to  him  that  ten- 
dency to  puritanical  rigour  that  may  be  thought 
by  some  to  be  allied  to  such  counsels  as  have  been 
expressed. 

In  a  late  discourse,  addressed  to  the  Alumni  of 
his  *^lma  Mater j  in  which  he  treats  of  "  the  dan- 


22S  GENERAL  READING. 

gers,  the  difficulties,  and  the  duties  of  scholars  in 
our  own  age,  and  especially  in  our  own  country," 
that  eminent  scholar  and  jurist  delivers  the  follow- 
ing opinions,  which  I  hope  you  will  seriously  con- 
sider. 

"  Who  that  looks  around  him  does  not  perceive, 
what  a  vast  amount  of  the  intellectual  power  and 
energy  of  our  own  country  is  expended,  not  to  say 
exhausted,  upon  temporary  and  fugitive  topics, — 
upon  occasional  addresses — upon  light  and  fantas- 
tic compositions — upon  manuals  of  education,  and 
hand-books  of  instruction, — upon  annotations  and 
excerpts, — and  upon  the  busy  evanescent  discus- 
sions of  politics,  which  fret  their  hour  upon  the 
stage,  or  infest  the  halls  of  legislation.  Need  we 
be  told  that  honours  thus  acquired  melt  away  at 
the  very  moment  when  we  grasp  them;  that  some 
new  wonder  will  soon  usurp  their  place;  and,  in 
its  turn,  will  be  chased  away  or  dissolved  by  the 
next  bubble  or  flying  meteor?  I  know  that  it  has 
sometimes  been  said,  that  '  Nothing  popular  can 
be  frivolous;  and  that  what  influences  multitudes 
must  be  of  proportionate  importance.'  A  more 
dangerous  fallacy,  lurking  under  the  garb  of  philo- 
sophy, could  scarcely  be  stated.  There  would  be 
far  more  general  truth  in  the  statement  of  the  very 
reverse  proposition.  Our  lecture-rooms  and  ly- 
ceums  are  crowded,  day  after  day,  and  night  after 
night,  with   those  who  seek  instruction  without 


GENERAL  READING.  229 

labour,  and  demand  improvement  without  effort. 
We  have  abundance  of  zeal,  and  abundance  of 
curiosity  enlisted  in  the  cause,  with  little  aim  at 
solid  results,  or  practical  ends.  It  seems  no  longer 
necessary,  in  the  view  of  many  persons,  for  students 
to  consume  their  midnight  lamps  in  pale  and  pa- 
tient researches, — or  in  communing  with  the  master 
spirits  of  other  days, — or  in  interrogating  the  his- 
tory of  the  past, — or  in  working  out,  with  a  hesi- 
tating progress,  the  problem  of  human  life.  An 
attendance  upon  a  few  courses  of  lectures  upon 
science,  or  art,  or  literature,  amidst  brilliant  gas 
lights,  or  brilliant  experiments,  or  brilliant  dis- 
courses of  accomplished  rhetoricians,  are  deemed 
satisfactory  substitutes  for  hard  personal  study,  in 
all  the  general  pursuits  of  life.  Nay,  the  capital 
stock  thus  acquired  may  be  again  retailed  out  to 
less  refined  audiences,  and  give  ready  fame  and 
profit  to  the  second-hand  adventurer. 

"  It  is  an  old  saying,  that  there  is  no  royal  road 
to  learning;  and  it  is  just  as  true  now  as  it  was 
two  thousand  years  ago.  Knowledge,  deep,  tho- 
rough, accurate,  must  be  sought,  and  can  be  found, 
only  by  strenuous  labour,  not  for  months,  but  for 
years;  not  for  years,  but  for  a  whole  life.  What 
lies  on  the  surface  is  easily  seen,  and  easily  mea- 
sured. What  lies  below  is  slowly  reached,  and 
must  be  cautiously  examined.  The  best  ore  may 
often  require  to  be  sifted  and  purified.  The  dia- 
20 


230  GENERAL  READING. 

mond  slowly  receives  its  polish  under  the  hands  of 
the  workman,  and  then  only  gives  out  its  sparkling 
lights.  The  very  marble  whose  massy  block  is 
destined  to  immortalize  some  great  name,  reluc- 
tantly yields  to  the  chisel;  and  years  must  elapse 
before  it  becomes  (as  it  were)  instinct  with  life, 
and  stands  forth  the  breathing  image  of  the  ori- 
ginal. 

"  It  cannot  admit  of  the  slightest  doubt  (at  least 
in  my  judgment)  that  the  habit  of  desultory  and 
miscellaneous  reading,  thus  created,  has  a  neces- 
sary tendency  to  enervate  the  mind,  and  to  destroy 
all  masculine  thinking.  Works  of  a  solid  cast, 
which  require  close  attention  and  exact  know- 
ledge to  grapple  with  them,  are  thrown  aside,  as 
dull  and  monotonous.  We  apologize  to  ourselves 
for  our  neglect  of  them,  that  they  may  be  taken 
up  at  a  more  convenient  season;  or  we  flatter  our- 
selves that  we  have  sufficiently  mastered  their  con- 
tents and  merits  from  the  last  Review,  although, 
in  many  cases,  it  may  admit  of  a  doubt,  whether 
the  critic  himself  has  ever  read  the  work.  With- 
out stopping  to  inquire,  how  many  of  the  whole 
class  of  literary  readers  now  study  with  thoughtful 
diligence  the  standard  writers  in  our  own  language, 
and  are  not  content  with  abridgments,  or  manuals, 
or  extracts,  I  would  put  it  to  those  who  are  engaged 
in  the  learned  professions,  and  have  the  most  strin- 
gent motives  for  deep,  thorough,  and  exact  know- 


GENERAL  READING.  231 

ledge, — I  would  put  it  to  them  to  say,  how  many 
of  their  whole  number  devote  themselves  to  the 
study  of  the  great  masters  of  their  profession? 
How  many  of  them  can,  in  the  sober  language  of 
truth,  say,  we  are  at  home  in  the  pages  of  our  pro- 
foundest  authors; — we  not  only  possess  them  to 
emich  our  hbraries,  but  we  devote  ourselves  to  the 
daily  consultation  of  them.  They  are  beside  us  at 
our  firesides,  and  they  cheer  our  evening  studies. 
We  live  and  breathe  in  the  midst  of  their  laborious 
researches,  and  systematical  learning?"* 

Such  are  the  sentiments  of  this  eminent  man.  1 
know  that,  in  your  sober  judgment,  you  cannot 
but  approve  them.  If  so,  let  it  be  seen  that  you 
begin  now,  even  within  the  college  walls,  to  waste 
as  little  time  as  possible  on  the  ephemeral  trifles  of 
the  day.  and  to  employ  as  much  as  possible  on 
those  rich  works  of  classical  character  and  value, 
every  one  of  which  will  add  something  to  your 
permanent  stores  of  intellectual  wealth. 

But  if  you  wish  to  profit  much  by  this  counsel, 
you  must  have  a  plan  about  it.  Resolve,  then, 
that  you  will  be  a  sparing  reader  of  periodicals  of 
every  kind.  Seldom  allow  yourselves  to  employ 
many  minutes  over  a  newspaper,  unless  it  be  to 
peruse  a  great  speech,  or  some  other  document  of 


*  A  Discourse  delivered  before  the  Society  of  the  Alumni  of 
Harvard  University,     By  Joseph  Story,  LL.  D.,  p.  16-22. 


538  GENERAL  READING. 

more  than  common  interest.  A  large  part  of  the 
reading  furnished  by  our  newspapers  is  of  a  highly 
demoralizing  character;  and  the  greater  portion  of 
those  which  belong  to  the  penny  class,  are  most 
polluting  in  their  tendency.  Turn  from  magazines 
and  novels  as  you  would  from  a  suspicious,  not  to 
say,  an  infected  region;  touching  none  of  them,  or, 
if  any,  none  but  a  few  of  the  best,  and  devoting  as 
little  time  as  possible  even  to  them.  Keep  con- 
stantly at  your  elbow,  in  a  course  of  reading,  some 
English  classic,  adapted  at  once  to  cultivate  your 
taste  and  add  to  your  stock  of  knowledge;  and  to 
be  taken  up  when  your  prescribed  labour  is  termi- 
nated. How  much  better  to  have  a  system  of  this 
sort,  than  to  pass  the  hours  of  relaxation  from  the 
studies  of  your  class,  either  in  perfect  idleness  and 
ennui,  or  in  reading  the  most  worthless,  not  to  say 
the  vilest  trash,  that  is  so  often  engaging  the  atten- 
tion of  students  who  profess  to  aim  at  the  attain- 
ment of  liberal  knowledge!  If  the  plan  I  have 
recommended,  or  any  thing  like  it,  were  faithfully 
pursued,  every  student  of  college,  before  the  close 
of  his  regular  course,  would  be  familiar  with  the 
best  masters  of  sentiment,  of  diction,  and  of  know- 
ledge that  the  English  language  affords. 

But  I  hope  you  will  not  confine  your  general 
reading  to  the  English  language.  That  student  in 
college  is  greatly  wanting  to  himself,  who,  in  the 
present  extended,  and    greatly  extending    inter- 


GENERAL  READING.  233 

course  among  nations,  does  not  labour,  as  far  as 
possible,  to  become  acquainted  with  several  modern 
languages,  and  especially  with  the  French  and 
German.  The  subserviency  of  these  languages  to 
professional  eminence  and  success  is  obvious.  I 
have  repeatedly  known  lawyers  and  physicians 
who  resided  in  populous  places,  submit,  late  in 
life,  to  the  labour  of  acquiring  both  these  lan- 
guages, because  they  perceived  that  the  possession 
of  them  would  serve  as  an  introduction  to  a  large 
portion  of  lucrative  business.  How  much  better 
would  it  have  been  for  such  persons  to  have  ac- 
quired a  knowledge  of  these  languages  in  college; 
at  an  age  when  a  new  language  is  more  easily 
gained  than  in  more  advanced  life,  and  when  the 
range  of  its  utility  would  have  been  far  greater!  I 
rejoice  to  know  that  you  have  not  been  inattentive 
to  the  languages  specified,  and  that  you  are  in 
some  measure  prepared  to  avail  yourselves  of  the 
benefits  to  which  they  may  be  made  subservient. 

Let  a  part  of  your  general  reading  be  in  those 
languages;  as  well  for  the  enlargement  of  your 
knowledge,  as  for  the  increase  of  your  familiarity 
with  different  dialects.  In  French^  read  such 
works  as  Feneloii's  Telemaque;  the  sermons  of 
Massillon,  Bossuet,  Bourdaloiie,  and  Saurin; 
Voltaire's  Steele  de  Louis  XIV.  et  XV.,  and 
Histoire  de  Charles  XII.,  and  his  La  Henriade, 
(avoiding  the  great  mass  of  the  other  works  of  that 
20* 


234  GENERAL  READING. 

profligate  infidel;)  together  with  the  works  of 
Chateaubriand,  Lamartine,  De  Tocqueville,  Giii- 
zot,  and  Ballanche,  of  the  present  day,  and  espe- 
cially Professor  Merle  df  JLuhigne' s  Histoire  de 
la  Reformation,  a  most  instructive  and  graphic 
work,  and  to  read  which  in  the  original  it  would 
be  well  worth  while  to  acquire  the  French  lan- 
guage. 

With  regard  to  German  reading,  my  knowledge 
is  too  scanty  to  enable  me  to  speak  in  a  very  ade- 
quate or  discriminating  manner.  But  I  may  with- 
out hesitation,  recommend  that  the  hours  bestowed 
upon  it  may  be  given  to  the  writings  of  such  men 
as  Klopstock,  Gellert,  Wieland,  Herder,  Goethe, 
Schiller,  and  a  few  more,  whose  character  you  will 
readily  learn  from  German  scholars.  It  is  to  be 
lamented  that  the  writings  of  most  of  these  men 
ought  to  be  read  with  caution,  as  by  no  means 
wholly  faultless  in  their  tendency.  Still  in  a  lite- 
rary point  of  view  they  may  be  considered  as 
holding  a  high  place  in  the  country  to  which  they 
belong,  and  as  among  the  best  that  can  be  recom- 
mended to  those  who  wish  for  a  small  amount  of 
select  German  reading. 

It  will  readily  be  perceived,  from  all  that  has 
been  said,  that  the  thing  popularly  called  general 
reading,  is  a  matter  of  no  small  importance;  that 
it  affords  a  noble  opportunity  for  enriching  the 
mind  with  valuable  knowledge;  that  the  variety 


GENERAL  READING.  235 

in  this  field  which  solicits  the  attention  of  the 
scholar  is  immense;  and,  of  course,  that  he  who 
wastes  the  precious  hours  which  he  can  afford  to 
devote  to  this  employment,  in  the  perusal  of  works 
frivolous,  corrupt,  or,  to  say  the  least,  wholly  un- 
profitable, is  equally  foolish  and  criminal.  The 
truth  is,  a  wise  youth  may  render  his  general  read- 
ing as  essentially  subservient  to  his  ultimate  success 
in  life,  as  the  most  solid  prescribed  study  in  which 
he  can  engage. 


23G 


LETTER  XIII. 
ATTENTION.— DILIGENCE. 

"  MiXsTfl  TO  vav." — Periander. 

■     ^  ■ "Nil  sine  magno 

Vita  labore  dedit  mortalibus." — Hor. 

My  Dear  Sons, 

When  man  fell  from  God,  a  part  of  the  sentence 
pronounced  upon  him,  in  the  way  of  penalty,  was 
— "In  the  sweat  of  thy  brow  thou  shalt  eat  thy 
bread."  It  was  indeed  a  penalty;  and,  of  course, 
all  the  labour  and  toil  connected  with  success  in 
life  ought  to  remind  us  of  our  fallen  nature,  and 
humble  us  under  the  mighty  hand  of  God.  But 
the  penalty  in  this,  and  in  many  other  cases,  has 
been  converted  by  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of 
God  into  a  blessing.  The  great  law  of  our  being 
that  we  shall  eat  our  bread  in  the  sweat  of  our 
brow,  extends  much  further  than  is  commonly 
imagined.  Many  understand  it  as  applying  only 
to  the  common  labourer.  But  it  applies  to  all. 
All  who  would  enjoy  life — all  who  would  have 


ATTENTION — DILIGENCE.  237 

bread  to  eat  in  plenty  and  comfort,  must  labour 
for  it  either  in  body  or  mind.  And  is  it  not  a 
mercy  that  the  providence  of  God  has  so  ordered 
it?  What  would  be  the  consequence  if  all  could 
eat  and  drink,  and  enjoy  the  luxuries  of  life  to  their 
heart's  content,  without  labour?  Would  it  not  dis- 
solve the  bonds  of  society,  and  convert  the  world 
into  a  real  hell?  The  law  of  labour,  in  one  form 
or  another  impressed  upon  all  men,  tends  to  pro- 
mote their  health  both  of  body  and  mind;  to  excite, 
invigorate  and  expand  their  faculties;  to  preserve 
them  from  the  rust  of  inaction,  and  the  snares  of 
idleness;  to  discipline  and  elevate  both  the  intel- 
lectual and  moral  character,  and  to  make  man  a 
helper  and  a  blessing  to  man. 

You  ought  to  regard  it,  then,  not  as  a  misfortune, 
but  as  a  blessing,  that  much  knowledge  is  not  to 
be  gained,  nor  a  high  reputation  established,  with- 
out much  labour.  Of  course  I  cannot  sympathize 
with  those  who  lament  this  arrangement  of  Provi- 
dence. Rather  ought  we  all  to  rejoice  in  it  as  one 
of  the  multiplied  evidences  of  that  adorable  wisdom 
and  benignity,  which  brings  light  out  of  darkness, 
order  out  of  confusion,  and  results  the  most  blessed 
and  happy  out  of  circumstances  painful  to  our  natu- 
ral feelings, 

I  take  for  granted  that  my  sons,  after  going  so 
far  in  the  attainment  of  what  is  called  a  liberal 
education,  expect  to  get  their  living  without  mecha- 


238  ATTENTION  —  DILIGENCE. 

nical  labour.  But  if  they  hope  to  accomplish  any 
thing  worthy  of  pursuit,  either  in  the  acquisition  of 
knowledge,  or  in  the  formation  of  good  intellectual 
and  moral  habits,  and  serving  their  generation  ac- 
ceptably and  usefully,  without  much  labour  and 
toil,  they  were  never  more  deluded.  If  one  old 
heathen  could  say,  in  the  language  of  the  mottoes 
which  stand  at  the  head  of  this  letter,  "In  this  life 
nothing  is  given  to  mortals,  without  great  labour;" 
and  another,  "  Industry  and  care  etfect  every  thing;" 
much  more  strongly  and  clearly  is  the  same  lesson 
taught  by  the  Word  of  God,  and  by  uniform  expe- 
rience. Think  not  that  what  is  called  genius,  or 
even  the  highest  order  of  talents,  even  if  you  could 
persuade  yourselves  that  you  possessed  them,  would 
exempt  you  from  the  law  of  patient  labour.  The 
greatest  men  that  ever  adorned  and  benefited 
human  nature  have  found  it  otherwise.  The  fact 
is,  any  single  branch  either  of  literature  or  science, 
if  we  would  thoroughly  master  it,  is  deep  enough 
and  wide  enough  to  keep  indefatigably  busy  the 
most  vigorous  and  active  mind  for  a  long  lifetime. 
How  much  more  the  multiplied  branches  which  he 
who  aspires  to  shine  in  any  one  of  the  learned  pro- 
fessions is  compelled  to  explore!  There  is,  no 
doubt,  great  diversity  in  regard  to  the  ease  and 
readiness  with  which  some  minds  acquire  know- 
ledge compared  with  others.  But  in  no  case  what- 
ever can  a  large  amount  of  knowledge,  on  any 


ATTENTION — DILIGENCE.  239 

subject,  be  gained  without  much  patient  labour. 
And  it  is  simply  the  want  of  a  disposition  to  submit 
to  this  labour  which  makes  so  many  miserable 
scholars,  and  which  stands  in  the  way  of  that  suc- 
cess in  life  which  might  have  been  otherwise  easily 
and  certainly  commanded. 

A  defect  here,  my  dear  sons,  lies  more  frequently 
and  more  deeply  at  the  foundation  of  those  failures 
to  get  forward  in  life  which  are  so  frequently  seen 
and  lamented  than  is  commonly  imagined.  One  of 
the  most  sagacious  and  successful  managers  of 
secular  business  that  I  ever  knew,  who  was,  for 
many  years,  a  faithful  and  efficient  trustee  of  our 
college,  and  to  whom  she  owes  a  large  debt  of 
gratitude  for  his  wise  and  useful  services  as  one  of 
her  guardians,*  when  any  one  was  spoken  of  in 
his  presence  as  failing  of  success  in  his  temporal 
affairs,  and  when  the  want  of  success  was  accounted 
for  by  calling  him  unfortunate,  was  heard  more 
than  once  to  say — "  Unfortunate?  don't  tell  me; 
when  I  hear  of  such  an  event  I  set  it  down  to  the 
score  of  the  want  of  industry,  or  of  discretion, 
or  both.  No  industrious,  prudent  man  need  be 
in  want  or  in  difficulty  in  this  country."  This,  in 
general,  I  believe  to  be  a  true  verdict.  With  very 
few  exceptions,  (and  exceptions  there  doubtless 
are,)   I  am  inclined  to   believe  that  the   opinion 

*  Tlie  late  Robert  Lenox,  Esquire,  of  New  York, 


240  ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 

of  that  enlightened  judge  may  be  confidently  main- 
tained. It  will  be  found  true  in  ninety-nine  cases 
out  of  an  hundred. 

If  this  remark  applies  with  justice  to  the  ordi- 
nary details  of  commercial  or  mechanical  business, 
it  is  no  less  applicable  to  mental  efforts  and  attain- 
ments. Here  you  might  just  as  well  expect  any 
absurdity,  any  impossibility  to  occur,  as  the  gaining 
of  any  large  amount  of  digested,  valuable  know- 
ledge without  much  and  indefatigable  mental  labour. 
When  I  have  heard,  therefore,  as  I  sometimes  have, 
of  students  (if  they  deserve  the  name  of  students) 
who  dreamed  that  they  were  men  of  genius,  and 
who  imagined  that  genius  without  industry  would 
accomplish  every  thing — nay,  who  felt  ashamed  of 
appearing  studious,  and  who  endeavoured  to  con- 
ceal the  little  mental  application  to  which  they  did 
submit  by  conducting  it  in  a  stealthy  manner; — 
when  I  have  heard  of  such  young  men,  I  have 
hardly  known  which  to  admire  most — their  childish 
ignorance  of  the  nature  of  true  knowledge,  or  their 
miserable  charlatanry  in  aping  a  character  to  which 
they  had  no  just  claim. 

If  you  wish  to  be  real  scholars,  and  to  make  any 
solid  attainments  in  any  of  the  branches  of  know- 
ledge to  which  your  attention  is  directed,  calcu- 
late on  constant  indefatigable  labour.  Abhor  the 
thought  of  skimming  over  the  surface  of  any  thing. 
Whatever  labour  it  may  cost,  go  to  the  bottom,  as 


ATTENTION DILIGENCE.  241 

far  as  you  possibly  can,  of  every  subject.  Give 
yourselves  no  rest  until  you  comprehend  the  funda- 
mental principles,  the  rationale  of  every  thing.  I 
need  not  say  to  any  one  who  thinks,  that  it  is  only 
when  a  subject  is  thus  studied  that  our  attainments 
deserve  the  name  of  knowledge.  Then  only  can  it 
be  said  to  have  a  firm' lodgment  in  the  mind,  and 
to  be  ready  for  practical  use  when  subsequently 
needed.  On  the  one  hand,  never  give  way  to  the 
foolish  notion,  that  you  can  never  advantageously 
study  a  particular  branch  without  a  special  genius 
for  it.  Many  an  infatuated  youth,  for  example, 
has  tried  to  excuse  himself  for  not  mastering  or 
loving  his  mathematical  studies  by  pleading  that 
he  has  no  genius  for  that  branch  of  science.  Never 
allow  yourselves  to  offer  or  to  entertain  such  a  plea. 
A  young  man  of  any  mind  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
such  a  thought.  It  is,  in  forty-nine  cases  out  of 
fifty,  the  offspring  of  either  mental  imbecility,  or 
shameful  laziness.  What  though  Dean  Swift  was 
disgraced  in  the  University  of  Dublin  by  his  igno- 
rance of  mathematics?  Does  any  one  doubt  that, 
if  morbid  caprice  and  indolence  had  not  stood  in 
the  way,  he  might  have  been  an  eminent  mathe- 
matical scholar?  And  is  not  every  reflecting  reader 
of  his  life  persuaded  that,  if  he  had  been  such  a 
scholar,  he  would  have  been  a  far  greater,  and  per- 
haps a  more  practically  happy  man?  No  one  who 
has  the  spirit  of  a  man  ought  to  consider  any  de- 
21 


242  ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 

partment  of  knowledge  as  beyond  his  reach.  Let 
him  be  willing  to  labour  in  the  attainment  of  it  and 
he  will  overcome.  Let  him  constrain  himself,  how- 
ever reluctantly,  to  engage  in  the  study;  and,  in  a 
httle  while,  that  which  in  the  outset  was  a  toil  will 
become  a  real  pleasure. 

On  the  other  hand,  imagine  not  that  any  depart- 
ment of  knowledge  can  be  successfully  explored 
and  gained  without  long-continued  and  patient 
labour.  If,  indeed,  you  wish  for  a  mere  smattering, 
which  will  enable  you  to  appear  decently  at  a  re- 
citation, and  plausibly  to  repeat  a  lesson  by  rote, 
without  understanding  what  you  say;  then,  truly, 
you  may  get  along  without  much  labour.  But 
what  is  implied  in  filling  the  mind  with  real  digested 
knowledge?  Facts  must  be  stored  up;  principles 
must  be  investigated  and  mastered;  relations,  proxi- 
mate and  remote,  must  be  explored;  and  all  applied 
to  the  numberless  and  ever  varying  cases  which 
the  works  of  nature  and  of  art  present.  Now,  can 
any  thinking  mind  imagine  that  this  is  to  be  done 
without  much  mental  labour;  without  continued, 
systematic,  unwearied  toil  from  day  to  day?  Dr. 
Johnson  never  uttered  a  juster  sentiment  than 
when  he  said — "  Every  one  who  proposes  to  grow 
eminent  by  learning,  should  carry  in  his  mind,  at 
once,  the  difficulty  of  excellence,  and  the  force  of 
industry;  and  remember  that  fame  is  not  conferred 
but  as  the  recompense  of  labour;  and  that  labour, 


ATTENTION — DILIGENCE.  243 

vigorously  continued,  has  not  often  failed  of  its 
reward."* 

There  is,  I  apprehend,  no  defect  more  common 
among  students  than  impatience  of  protracted 
labour  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge.  Many 
seem  to  imagine  that  large  and  profound  views  of 
the  most  difficult  subjects  are  to  be  gained  by  one 
or  a  few  mighty  efforts;  by  an  occasional  spasmodic 
exertion,  if  I  may  so  express  it.  Be  assured,  what- 
ever may  be  the  case  with  a  rare  genius,  now  and 
then,  it  is  commonly  not  so.  The  old  French  pro- 
verb, "Pas  a  pas  on  va  bien  loin,"  i.  e.  "Step  by 
step  one  goes  very  far,"  affords  the  real  clew  to 
the  proper  course.  A  mountain  is  not  to  be  passed 
by  a  single  leap;  nor  a  deep  and  rich  mine  to  be 
explored  by  a  single  stroke,  or  even  a  few  strokes, 
of  the  spade.  But  a  sufficient  number  of  slow, 
cautious,  patient  efforts  will  accomplish  the  enter- 
prise. So  it  is  in  study.  Impatient  haste  is  the 
bane  of  intellectual  work.  A  little  thoroughly 
done,  every  day,  will  make  no  contemptible  figure 
at  the  end  of  the  year.  We  are  told  of  Sir  Isaac 
Newton,  that,  when  questioned  respecting  the  pecu- 
liar powers  of  his  own  mind,  he  said,  that  if  he  had 
any  talent  which  distinguished  him  from  the  com- 
mon mass  of  thinking  men,  it  was  the  power  of 
slowly  and  patiently  examining  a  subject;  holding 

•  Rambler,  No.  25. 


244  ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 

it  up  before  his  mind  from  day  to  day,  until  he 
could  look  at  it  in  all  its  relations,  and  see  some- 
thing of  the  principles  by  which  it  was  governed. 
His  estimate  was  probably  a  correct  one.  His 
most  remarkable,  and  certainly  his  most  valuable, 
talent  consisted,  not  in  daring,  towering  flights  of 
imagination,  or  in  strong  creative  powers;  but  in 
slow,  plodding  investigation;  in  looking  at  a  series 
of  facts,  from  day  to  day,  until  he  began  to  trace 
their  connection;  to  spell  out  their  consequences; 
and  ultimately  to  form  a  system  as  firm  as  it  was 
beautiful.  The  little  structures,  which  haste  and 
parsimony  of  labour  have  erected  from  time  to 
time,  have  stood  their  passing  day,  and  soon  crum- 
bled into  ruins.  But  the  mighty  pyramids,  built 
up  by  long,  patient  and  unwearied  labour,  have 
continued  firm,  in  all  their  unshaken  grandeur, 
amidst  the  waste  of  ages. 

When  you  contemplate  the  splendid  success  of 
some  eminent  individuals  now  or  lately  on  the  stage 
of  public  life,  you  are  ready  to  imagine  that  similar 
success  is  beyond  your  reach,  and  that  to  aim  at  it 
would  be  presumptuous.  This  is  a  great  mistake, 
and  to  indulge  it  is  very  unwise.  It  must  be  ad- 
mitted, indeed,  that  the  success  of  all  cannot  be 
alike.  All,  for  example,  cannot  be  great  orators; 
excellence  in  this  art  depends  so  much  on  physical 
accomplishments;  on  the  voice,  the  eye,  the  nervous 
temperament,  &c.  that  we  can  by  no  means  assure 


ATTENTION — DILIGENCE.  245 

every  one  that  a  high  degree  of  it  is  within  his 
reach.  Yet  even  here  great  excellence  may  often 
be  attained  by  those  whose  qualifications  appear, 
at  first  view,  wholly  unpromising.  The  history  of 
Demosthenes  is  a  most  striking  exemplification  of 
the  truth  of  this  remark.  Hundreds  who  are  now 
poor  speakers,  if  they  had  the  industry  and  the 
resolution  that  the  illustrious  Grecian  had— if  they 
would  take  the  unwearied  pains  that  he  did  to 
expand  and  invigorate  the  chest,  to  strengthen  and 
discipline  the  voice,  and  to  fill  their  minds  with 
appropriate  sentiments  and  happy  diction  such  as 
he  attained,  might  well  emulate  even  his  eloquence. 
It  is,  undoubtedly,  mere  indolence,  or  ill  directed 
effort,  which  stands  in  the  way  of  high  attainment, 
in  this  rarest  of  all  human  accomplishments. 

But  the  avenues  to  real  greatness  are  almost 
infinitely  diversified;  and  if  one  be  shut,  another  is 
open  to  almost  every  one.  I  think,  my  dear  sons, 
that  my  estimate  of  your  talents  is  not  extravagant. 
I  am  willing,  for  argument's  sake,  to  place  it  as  low 
as  any  one  can  ask;  and  I  will  still  say,  that  great 
things  are  within  your  reach.  Nay,  I  will  venture 
confidently  to  affirm,  that  «very  one  who  has  had 
mind  enough  and  knowledge  enough  to  reach  any 
class  in  college,  has  it  in  his  power,  humanly  speak- 
ing, to  attain  high  distinction  as  a  beloved,  honoured 
and  eminently  useful  man.  Some  of  the  greatest 
benefactors  of  society  that  ever  lived  were  not  men 
21* 


246  ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 

of  genius;  but  they  were  sober  and  industrious, 
willing  to  labour  in  laying  up  knowledge;  and  they 
did  thus  lay  it  up,  and  having  attained  it,  they 
had  the  honesty  and  the  benevolence  to  employ  it 
all  in  endeavouring  to  promote  the  welfare  and 
happiness  of  their  fellow  men.  Who  can  say  that 
this  is  beyond  his  reach?  Look  round  on  your 
classmates,  and  ask,  which  of  them  is  too  low  on 
the  score  of  talent  to  be  thus  eminently  and  honour- 
ably useful,  if  he  were  only  willing  to  undergo  the 
requisite  labour  for  the  purpose?  While  laziness 
and  vice  are  every  day  clouding  the  prospects  and 
degrading  the  reputation  of  thousands,  making 
them  cumberers  of  the  ground,  instead  of  bene- 
factors of  their  species;  there  is  no  doubt  that,  in  a 
multitude  of  cases,  the  mere  qualities  of  unwearied 
industry  and  inflexible  honesty  have  exalted  men 
of  plain  talents  to  the  highest  ranks  of  usefulness 
and  honour.  Why,  0  why  are  so  few  willing,  who 
have  it  in  their  power,  to  make  the  experiment? 

But  there  is  such  a  thing  as  being  incessantly 
occupied,  and  yet  not  industrious.  This  is  the 
case  with  him  who  has  no  regular  system  of  em- 
ployment, who  is  constantly  the  sport  of  new 
occurrences;  who  is  continually  getting  in  arrears 
with  his  business,  and  always  in  a  hurry  to  over- 
take it,  but  never  able.  Such  persons  never  ac- 
complish much,  and  their  work,  such  as  it  is,  is 
hardly  ever  done  in  time.     I  once  knew  a  most 


ATTENTION — DILIGENCE.  247 

worthy  man,  an  alumnus  of  our  college,  who  had 
an  active  mind,  and  was  seldom  idle.  But  he  had 
not  the  power  of  pursuing  any  one  object  long  at 
a  time.  He  was  incessantly  forming  new  projects 
of  literary  works,  but  never  carried  any  one  of  them 
into  execution.  1  seldom  met  him  without  finding 
his  mind  occupied  with  some  new  scheme,  and 
having  apparently  altogether  abandoned  that  which 
absorbed  his  attention  at  the  date  of  the  preceding 
interview.  The  consequence  was,  that,  although 
conscientious,  pious,  and  by  no  means  idle,  his  life 
was  comparatively  wasted  in  promises  never  real- 
ized, and  in  efforts  altogether  abortive.  Real  in- 
dustry is  that  which  wisely  and  maturely  forms  a 
plan,  which  "firmly  and  patiently  pursues  it  from 
day  to  day,  until  it  is  brought  to  a  plenary  conclu- 
sion. Perseverance  is  one  of  the  essential  qualities 
of  genuine  industry.  He  who  works  with  zeal  and 
diligence  for  a  few  days,  and  then  either  breaks  off 
altogether,  or  suffers  himself  to  be  interrupted  by 
every  frivolous  occurrence,  will  never  build  up  a 
very  firm  or  elevated  fame.  "  How  is  it  that  you 
accomplish  so  much?"  said  a  friend  to  the  great 
pensioner  De  Witt,  of  Holland.  «  By  doing  one 
thing  at  a  time,"  replied  the  eminent  statesman. 

How  many  hours  per  diem  you  ought  to  study, 
and  in  what  precise  way  these  hours  ought  to  be 
distributed  in  the  twenty-four,  I  shall  not  attempt 
to  prescribe.     This  depends  so  much  on  the  state 


248  ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 

of  health,  the  physical  temperament,  and  the  diver- 
sified circumstances  of  each  individual,  that  it  is 
impossible  to  lay  down  a  rule  which  shall  suit  all 
equally  well.  Some,  who  study  with  intense  ap- 
plication whenever  they  are  thus  engaged,  ought 
not  to  employ  in  this  manner  more  than  six  hours 
each  day;  while  those  whose  application  of  mind 
in  such  cases  is  less  intense  and  absorbing,  may 
venture  on  ten  or  even  twelve  hours  in  every 
twenty-four  without  injury.  The  slow  and  phleg- 
matic must,  of  course,  employ  more  time  over  their 
books  than  those  whose  mental  operations  are 
more  rapid  and  ardent.  But  see  that,  as  far  as 
possible,  no  moment  be  either  lost  in  vacuity  or 
wasted  on  frivolity. 

It  is  truly  wonderful  to  think  how  much  may  be 
accomplished  by  order  mingled  with  diligence  in 
our  pursuits.  He  who  has  a  time  and  a  place  for 
every  thing  that  he  has  to  do,  and  who  gains,  by 
habit,  the  power  of  summoning  his  powers  to  the 
vigorous  performance  at  the  proper  time  of  the  pre- 
scribed task,  will  soon  learn  to  accomplish  more  in 
a  day,  then  he  who  is  frequently  struggling  with 
ennui  and  with  indolence  will  be  likely  to  accom- 
plish in  a  month. 

And  if  you  wish  to  be  successfully  industrious, 
make  a  point  of  being  early  risers.  Lying  long 
in  bed  in  the  morning  is,  in  every  view,  a  pernicious 
habit.     It  seldom  fails  to  exert  a  morbid  influence 


ATTENTION — DILIGENCE.  249 

on  the  bodily  health.     It  is  generally  connected 
with  languid  feelings,  and  with  want  of  decision 
and  energy  in  every  thing.     It  may  thus  be  said  to 
cut  off  a  number  of  years  from  the  ordinary  life  of 
man.     But   the  importance  of  this  habit  on  the 
employments  of  a  student  is  incalculable.    He  who 
has  much  to  do  ought  to  begin  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, not  only  because  the  minds  of  most  people  are 
most  active  and  vigorous  immediately  after  the 
repose  of  the  night,  but  also  because  when  a  large 
part  of  our  daily  task  is  early  accomplished,  the 
interruptions  of  company,  as  the  day  advances,  are 
less  annoying,  and  less  destructive  to  the  progress 
of  our  work.     Sir  Walter  Scott,  we  are  told  by  his 
biographer,  was  in  the  habit,  at  one  period  of  his 
life,  of  having  the  greater  part  of  his  literary  task 
for  each  day  nearly  completed  at  an  early  hour  in 
the  forenoon,  thus  leaving  a  number  of  hours  every 
day  to  be  devoted  to  the  social  and  other  employ- 
ments which  his  eminence  and  his  multiplied  con- 
nections with  his  friends  and  the  public  unavoid- 
ably brought  upon  him.     This,  too,  was  the  great 
secret  of  the  immense  amount  of  labour  accom- 
plished by  those  eminent  men,  in  former  times, 
whose  ponderous  folios  we  now  look  upon  with 
amazement,  and  can  scarcely  find  time  to  read. 
They  were  early  risers.     Whenever  they  had  a 
great  task  to  perform  (and  they  always  had  some 
such  task  on  hand)  they  were  steady  and  incessant 


250  ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 

in  their  labours.  They  lost  no  time  in  idleness  or 
trifles.  Imitate  their  example,  and  you  may  ac- 
complish as  much  as  they  did.  The  laws  of  the 
college  which  call  you  up  at  an  early  hour,  and 
enjoin  upon  you  an  early  retirement  to  rest,  may 
now  seem  to  you  a  hardship;  but,  if  you  live  a  few 
years,  you  will  regard  them  in  a  very  different 
Ught, 


251 


LETTER    XIV. 

ASSOCIATIONS— FRIENDSHIPS. 

"  NoBciiur  a  Sociis," — Anon. 

"  It  is  certain  that  either  wise  bearing,  or  ignorant  carriage,  is 
caught  as  men  take  diseases,  one  of  another;  therefore  take  heed 
of  your  company." — Shakspeare, 

My  Dear  Sons, 

I  can  well  remember  the  time,  when,  in  the 
prospect  of  entering  a  college,  my  impressions  of 
the  character  of  such  an  institution  were  of  the 
most  interesting  kind.  I  expected  to  find  myself 
united  to  a.  society  of  young  gentlemen,  of  polished 
manners,  of  honourable  feelings  and  habits,  and  of 
ardent  and  generous  literary  emulation.  I  had 
been  experimentally  aware  that,  in  inferior  semi- 
naries, there  are  often  found  lads  of  vulgar  charac- 
ter, and  even  of  profligate  principles,  and  grossly 
revolting  habits.  But  in  a  college  I  expected  to 
find  the  very  ilite  of  literary  young  men;  and  to 
meet,  in  all  its  classes,  and  especially  in  its  more 
advanced  ones,  circles  with  whom  it  would  be  both 


252  ASSOCIATIONS FRIENDSHIPS. 

delightful  and  improving  to  maintain  intercourse. 
Judge,  then,  of  my  surprise,  when  I  found  that, 
even  in  a  college,  there  were  sometimes  to  be  seen 
young  men  of  manners  as  vulgar  and  offensive, 
and  of  habits  and  principles  as  profligate,  as  else- 
where; nay,  in  some  rare  instances,  capable  of  the 
meanest  as  well  as  the  most  criminal  practices; 
and,  therefore,  that  even  here  it  was  necessary  to 
be  select  in  associations,  and  especially  in  inti- 
macies. I  might  have  reflected,  indeed,  that  hu- 
man depravity  appears  in  every  connection  and 
walk  of  life;  that  he  who  expects  to  find  it  wholly 
excluded,  even  from  the  church  of  God,  cherishes 
a  vain  expectation;  and  that,  in  circles  of  college 
students,  it  is  the  part  of  wisdom  to  be  always  on 
the  watch,  for  ascertaining  the  character  and 
avoiding  the  company  of  those  young  men  whose 
touch  is  pollution,  and  whose  intimacy  is  equally 
disreputable  and  perilous. 

It  is  a  maxim  of  inspired  wisdom  (1  Cor.  xv.  33) 
that  "evil  communications  corrupt  good  manners." 
No  one,  however  wise  or  firm,  has  a  right  to  con- 
sider himself  as  above  the  reach  of  the  danger 
against  which  we  are  warned  by  this  maxim. 
Even  the  inspired  apostle  himself,  the  penman  of 
the  maxim,  if  not  protected  by  a  special  guardian- 
ship, would  have  been  liable  to  suff'er  by  the  mis- 
chievous influence  against  which  he  guards  us. 
How  much  greater  the  danger  when  the  fascina- 


ASSOCIATIONS  —  FRIENDSHIPS.  253 

tioii  of  intercourse  with  the  corrupt  is  indulged 
without  restraint,  and  without  the  least  apprehen- 
sion of  mischief! 

There  are  few  situations  in  which  a  base  and 
profligate  young  man  is  capable  of  doing  more 
injury  to  those  about  him,  than  in  a  college.  The 
points  of  contact  between  those  who  study  in  the 
same  institution,  and  especially  in  the  same  class, 
are  so  numerous  and  important,  that  it  is  difficult 
wholly  to  avoid  contamination.  The  counsel, 
therefore,  which  I  have  to  give  on  this  subject,  as 
it  is  unspeakably  important,  so  you  will  find  it  no 
less  difficult  to  follow  in  your  daily  intercourse. 

I  take  for  granted  that  you  will  lay  it  down  as  a 
fundamental  principle  in  your  social  relations,  to 
treat  every  fellow  student  with  decorum,  and  even 
with  urbanity;  that  you  will  study  to  be  gentlemen 
even  amidst  the  freedom  of  college  intercourse. 
This  I  have  recommended,  in  another  letter,  with 
all  the  zeal  of  parental  solicitude.  Try  as  much  as 
possible  to  have  no  disagreement,  no  contest  with 
any  one.  "If  it  be  possible,  as  much  as  lieth  in 
you,  live  peaceably  with  all."  For  this  purpose, 
let  the  tones  of  your  voice,  and  your  whole  air  and 
manner  be  free  from  that  rough,  acrid,  insolent 
character,  which  young  men  of  ardent  minds,  and 
bouyant  feelings,  are  so  apt  to  exhibit:  and  which 
are  the  beginning  of  so  many  distressing  quarrels 
and  disgraceful  affrays.  It  has  been  my  privilege, 
22 


254  ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 

in  the  course  of  a  long  life,  to  be  acquainted  with 
several  public  men,  of  eminent  talents,  deeply  and 
constantly  engaged  in  political  affairs;  and  em- 
ployed, for  thirty  or  forty  years  together,  in  inter- 
course and  collision  with  all  sorts  of  men,  from  the 
most  excellent  to  the  most  corrupt  and  vile.  And 
yet,  though  not  religious  men,  I  have  never  heard 
of  their  giving  or  receiving  a  challenge  to  fight  a 
duel;  never  known  them  to  be  involved  in  any 
feud  or  broil  with  any  one;  never  seen  them  re- 
duced to  the  necessity  of  defending  themselves, 
either  by  the  fist,  the  pen,  or  the  tongue,  from  the 
ferocious  attacks  of  ruffians.  What  was  the  reason 
of  this?  Not  because  they  had  less  discernment  to 
perceive  the  designs  of  opponents;  or  less  sensibility 
to  insult;  or  less  regard  to  their  own  dignity  and 
honour  than  they  ought  to  have  had: — but  because 
they  were  "swift  to  hear,  slow  to  speak,  slow  to 
wrath;"  because  they  had  the  faculty  of  "ruling 
their  own  spirits;"  because  they  saw  the  evil  of 
dissension  afar  off,  and  avoided  its  approaches; 
because  their  language  and  tones  were  habitually 
mild  and  adapted  to  disarm  and  conciliate  rather 
than  to  provoke;  in  short,  because  they  acted  upon 
the  maxim  of  the  wise  physician,  who  tells  us,  obsta 
principiis; — "an  ounce  of  prevention  is  worth  a 
pound  of  cure."  This  was  the  grand  secret  of 
such  men  going  through  life  with  peaceful,  undis- 
turbed  dignity,  beloved  and  confided   in  by  the 


ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS.  255 

community,  and  constraining  even  the  wicked  to 
speak  well  of  them. 

But  who  has  not  seen  many,  in  pubUc  and  pri- 
vate hfe,  of  a  very  opposite  character?  Men  of 
equal  talents,  and,  in  many  respects,  of  equal  in- 
tegrity and  moral  worth;  but  so  morbidly  sensitive 
to  all  opposition;  so  liable  to  the  sallies  of  un- 
governable passion;  so  hasty  and  unguarded  in 
speech;  and  so  incapable  of  all  sober  calculation  of 
consequences,  that  they  were  constantly  involved 
in  broils,  and  sometimes  in  conflicts  of  disgraceful 
and  brutal  violence.  Such  men  are  to  be  avoided 
almost  as  much  as  ferocious  beasts.  To  speak  to 
them  is  unsafe.  To  attempt  to  transact  business 
with  them  requires  all  the  vigilance  and  caution 
necessary  in  handling  or  approaching  an  exploding 
substance. 

Let  me  exhort  you,  then,  my  dear  sons,  as  soon 
as  possible  to  learn  the  character  of  all  your  fellow 
students,  and  especially  of  those  with  whom  you 
are  associated  in  the  same  class.  If  you  perceive 
any  to  be  particularly  forward,  or  likely  on  account 
of  any  popular  qualities,  to  take  the  lead,  scruti- 
nize them  with  peculiar  care.  The  moment  you 
perceive  any  one  to  be  profane,  rude,  vulgar,  irri- 
table, quarrelsome,  or  forward  in  plotting  or  exe- 
cuting mischief — however  great  his  talents, — mark 
him; — have  as  little  to  do  with  him  as  possible; — 
neither  say  nor  do  any  thing  to  provoke  his  resent- 


256  ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 

ment;  but  avoid  him;  speak  not  to  him,  or  of  him 
more  than  you  cannot  help.  If  he  discovers  a  dis- 
position to  be  intimate  with  you,  do  not  repel  him 
offensively;  but  let  him  see,  by  negative,  rather 
than  positive  indications,  that  you  prefer  the  com- 
pany of  other  associates.  If  you  go  to  the  room 
of  a  corrupt  and  disorderly  fellow  student;  if 
you  are  found  in  his  company;  or  partaking  with 
him  in  any  amusement,  you  may  be  unexpectedly 
implicated  in  some  of  his  freaks  or  follies,  in  a 
manner  as  unmerited  as  painful.  I  have  known 
one  event  of  this  kind  to  involve  an  innocent  and 
worthy  student  in  serious  and  lasting  difficulty. 
Indeed  I  would  carry  my  advice  to  avoid  all  inter- 
course with  the  corrupt  and  disorderly,  so  far  as  to 
say,  with  earnestness, — never  allow  yourselves  to 
mix  with  the  crowd  which  seldom  fails  to  rush 
together,  when  any  affray,  great  or  small,  occurs, 
either  in  the  campus  or  in  the  street.  However 
great  the  assemblage,  and  however  strong  the  im- 
pulse of  curiosity,  refrain — if  you  can  summon  so 
much  resolution — from  approaching  the  scene.  If 
you  are  present — with  the  most  innocent  intentions 
in  the  world,  and  with  the  most  entire  original 
freedom  possible  from  the  leading  actors  in  the 
scene — some  unexpected  nervous  excitement  on 
your  part,  some  remark  of  a  reckless  and  foolish 
bystander;  some  blow  intended  for  another  light- 
ing on  yourselves— may  render  the  gratification 


ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS.  257 

of  a  momentary  curiosity  a  source  of  serious  and 
lasting  calamity.  Often, — very  often  have  1  had 
reason  to  be  thankful,  that  some  Providential  oc- 
currence, rather  than  my  own  wisdom,  prevented 
my  making  one  of  a  crowd  in  which,  from  appa- 
rently small  beginnings, passions  were  unexpectedly 
inflamed;  violence  extended;  and  a  number  of  in- 
dividuals suddenly  implicated,  and  perhaps  fatally 
injured,  who  had  no  connection  whatever  with  the 
original  conflict.  The  truth  is,  such  scenes  ought 
to  be  just  as  carefully  avoided,  as  the  track  of  a 
fearful  tornado,  when  sweeping  past  our  place  of 
abode. 

But,  my  dear  sons,  while  you  avoid,  with  the 
utmost  vigilance,  the  company  of  such  young  men 
as  I  have  described,  and  all  contact  with  such 
scenes  of  violence  as  those  to  which  I  have  re- 
ferred, remember  that  social  intercourse  with  your 
fellow  students,  when  wisely  conducted,  is  of  great 
value,  and  may  be  made  the  source  of  essential 
benefits.  I  say,  when  wisely  conducted;  for  there 
is  here  great  need  of  judgment  and  caution.  Be 
not  in  haste  to  form  intimacies.  Enlightened  and 
safe  friendship  is  a  plant  of  slow  growth.  No 
wise  young  man  will  give  his  heart  and  his  confi- 
dence to  one  with  whom  he  is  only  slightly  ac- 
quainted. He  will  not  only  scrutinize  his  charac- 
ter with  care  himself,  but  he  will  also  carefully 
mark  how  the  candidate  for  his  favour  is  regarded 
22* 


25S  ASSOCIATIONS  —  FRIENDSHIPS. 

and  treated  by  the  best  judges,  who  have  been 
longer  and  more  intimately  acquainted  with  him. 
Try,  as  far  as  possible,  to  select,  as  the  objects  of 
your  confidence,  some  of  the  best  talents  and  the 
best  scholarship  among  your  fellow  students.  From 
such,  provided  their  moral  and  social  qualities  do 
not  render  them  dangerous,  you  may  expect  to 
derive  most  pleasure,  most  intellectual  excitement, 
most  solid  instruction.  Guard  against  the  error  of 
having  too  many  intimates.  It  frequently  happens 
that  sanguine,  raw  young  men,  find  confidants  in 
every  place  of  their  residence,  whether  for  a  longer 
or  shorter  time.  Such  confidential  relations  ought 
always  to  be  very  few,  and  very  cautiously  formed. 
He  who  makes  them  many  will  soon  find  himself 
betrayed  and  embarrassed.  Not  one  friend  in  a 
thousand  is  fit  to  be  entrusted  with  the  private  con- 
cerns of  others,  and  especially  with  those  personal 
secrets  which  it  is  the  interest  of  every  one  to  con- 
ceal from  the  public.  Even  where  there  is  a  strict 
sense  of  honour,  essential  weakness  of  character 
renders  many  a  worthy  individual  an  utterly  un- 
safe depository  of  confidential  communications.  I 
have  met  with  but  two  or  three  friends  in  a  long~ 
life  whom  I  found  it  prudent  thus  to  trust.  You 
will  be  very  fortunate  if  you  meet  with  more  than 
one  in  all  your  college. 

But  further,  be  not  so  intimate  with  ajiy,  as 
either  to  waste  in  social  intercourse  that  time  of 


ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS.  259 

your  own  which  ought  to  be  spent  in  study;  or  to 
encroach  on  theiY  time  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
interrupt  them  in  the  performance  of  their  duty.  I 
have  known  some  students  so  inconsiderate  as  to 
spend  a  portion  of  almost  every  day  in  going  from 
room  to  room,  visiting  their  fellow  students.  Such 
young  men  lessen  their  own  dignity;  make  their 
visits  cheap;  waste  their  own  time;  and  invade  the 
time,  the  studies,  and,  of  course,  the  comfort  of 
others.  Lord  Bacon  was  accustomed,  with  em- 
phasis, to  say — »<  Temporis  fiires  amici.^^  Cotton 
Mather,  and,  after  him.  Dr.  Watts,  caused  to  be 
inscribed,  in  large  letters,  over  their  study  doors, 
these  words — "  be  short."  That  student  who 
spends  much  time  in  his  social  visits,  gives  ample 
evidence  that  he  is  neglecting  his  studies,  and  is 
likely  to  make  a  poor  scholar.  But  this  is  not  all: 
He  will  very  soon  become  an  unwelcome  visitant 
to  all,  excepting  those  who  are  as  indolent  and 
reckless  as  himself. 

In  all  your  intercourse  with  your  fellow  stu- 
dents, adhere  to  the  strictest  principles  of  delicacy 
and  honour.  Never  betray,  or  take  the  advantage 
of  any  confidence  reposed  in  you.  Never  employ 
any  indirect  arts,  or  insidious  means,  to  raise 
yourselves,  or  to  depress  others.  Never  allow 
yourselves  to  use  any  information  or  opportunity 
which  your  intimacy  may  give,  either  directly  or 
indirectly,  to  the  injury  of  one  whom  you  call  your 


260  ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 

friend.  In  short,  I  would  say,  never  permit  your- 
selves to  make  any  use  of  the  most  unguarded  dis- 
closure, or  of  the  most  confidential  conversation, 
which  you  would  not  be  perfectly  willing  that  all  the 
world  should  know,  and  that  all  your  friends  should 
apply  to  yourselves.  Begin  now,  my  dear  sons, 
when  your  social  character  is  forming,  to  despise 
and  hate  every  thing  like  trick,  deceit,  or  under- 
hand management,  in  your  intercourse  with  others; 
every  thing  that  shuns  the  light,  or  which,  if 
known,  would  be  considered  as  inconsistent  with 
perfect  fairness  and  candour.  No  one  can  tell 
how  much  of  that  which  is  now  concealed,  and 
which  he  supposed  could  never  be  known,  may 
one  day  be  unexpectedly  dragged  to  light.  Let 
the  most  entire  sincerity,  openness,  and  manly 
integrity  shine  in  every  part  of  your  conversation 
and  deportment.  I  should  be  greatly  mortified  if 
any  of  your  companions  should  be  able  to  say, 
that  while  professing  to  be  his  friend,  you  had 
taken  the  advantage  of  your  intimacy,  in  the  least 
tittle,  to  wound  his  reputation,  or  injure  his  feelings. 
Nay,  I  would  go  one  step  further,  and  say,  not 
only  adhere  to  the  strictest  integrity  and  honour  in 
all  your  intercourse  with  those  whom  you  call  your 
friends,  and  whom  you  are  willing  should  be  so 
regarded;  but  also  toward  your  opponents,  and 
even  your  bitterest  enemies.  If  the  worst  enemy 
I  have  in  the  world  should,  in  an  unguarded  mo- 


ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS.  261 

ment,  utter  in  my  hearing  a  speech  which  he  did 
not  deliberately  intend  to  make,  or  disclose  a  fact 
which  he  earnestly  wished  to  conceal,  or  drop  from 
his  pocket  a  private  paper,  which  he  was  solicitous 
to  keep  from  others, — I  should,  in  most  cases,  con- 
sider myself  as  bound  in  honour  not  to  divulge 
them.  Hence  the  unanimity  with  which  all 
honourable  people  condemn  the  repeating  of  pri- 
vate conversation;  and  hence  the  severity  with 
which  all  well  constituted  and  delicate  minds 
reprobate  the  conduct  of  the  eavesdropper,  who 
gains  a  knowledge  of  domestic  secrets,  or  party 
plans,  by  mean,  secret  listening.  If  I  can  approach 
my  enemy,  or  meet  my  opponent  in  open  warfare, 
every  honourable  mind  will  justify  me  in  doing 
so: — but  I  would  not  for  the  world  consent  to  be, 
or  to  employ,  a  spy,  whom  all  civilized  nations 
concur  in  sending  to  the  gallows. 

It  is  a  maxim  of  policy  with  some  students  to 
seek  and  cultivate  intimacies  with  such  of  their  col- 
lege companions  as  belong  to  the  most  wealthy 
and  conspicuous  families;  accordingly,  when  a  son 
of  a  President  of  the  United  States,  or  of  a  dis- 
tinguished member  of  Congress,  or  of  a  citizen  of 
great  wealth  enters  college,  it  is  considered  as  good 
policy  by  many  calculating  youth  early  to  make 
their  acquaintance,  and  to  become,  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, intimate  with  them.  There  is  much  less 
wisdom  in  this  than  is  commonly  supposed.     The 


262  ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 

sons  of  such  distinguished  parents  are  seldom 
sober-minded  and  virtuous.  They  have  been  com- 
monly too  much  accustomed  to  gaiety,  and  com- 
pany, and  dissipation,  and  hixurious  living,  to  be 
either  diligent  students  or  good  scholars.  Their 
habits,  too,  are  apt  to  be  lax  and  expensive;  and 
they  too  frequently  betray  into  unlawful  liberties 
and  unexpected  and  inconvenient  expenses,  those 
who  court  their  company;  and,  in  the  end,  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten,  they  cost  much  more  than  they  pro- 
fit us.  The  truth  is,  instead  of  seeking,  anterior  to 
inquiry  and  experience,  peculiar  intimacy  with  such 
young  men,  I  should  be  more  distrustful  of  such  than 
of  others;  more  afraid  of  their  proffered  friendship; 
more  apprehensive  of  danger  from  being  found 
much  in  their  company;  more  careful  to  scrutinize 
the  real  stamp  and  bearing  of  their  character,  than 
if,  with  equally  plausible  appearances,  they  had 
more  moderate  claims,  and  had  been  brought  up 
with  more  humble  retiring  simplicity.  The  sons 
of  pious  parents,  and  sometimes  even  of  eminent 
ministers  of  the  gospel,  have,  in  some  instances, 
turned  out  to  be  profligate,  and  proved  pestiferous 
companions:  but,  on  the  other  hand,  young  men 
trained  in  pious  families,  in  regular  habits,  in  plain 
and  moderate  expenditures,  and  with  a  reliance, 
under  God,  on  their  own  efforts,  for  success  in  life, 
are,  in  general,  the  most  safe  and  profitable  asso- 


ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS.  263 

ciates,  and,  of  coarse,  most  worthy  of  being  selected 
as  friends. 

In  short,  I  hope  yoii  will  act  in  college  as  the 
wise  and  the  virtuous  act  in  the  ordinary  inter- 
courses of  society.  Be  on  amicable  and  neigh- 
bourly terms  with  all,  excepting  the  profligate  and 
vile.  With  them  have  no  intercourse  that  can 
possibly  be  avoided.  Never  visit  them.  Never 
be  seen  in  their  rooms  or  their  company,  however 
great  their  talents,  or  however  eminent  their  scho- 
larship. Let  your  selectest  intimacies  be  with 
youth  of  the  highest  character  for  talents  and  at- 
tainments, provided  their  moral  character  be  un- 
blemished and  pure,  and  especially,  if  they  give 
evidence  of  sincere  piety.  Where  there  is  true 
religion  there  is  something  that  is  worthy  of  con- 
fidence, and  that  may  always  be  made  profitable 
to  you,  even  though  accompanied  with  only  mode- 
rate intellectual  powers,  and  medium  scholarship. 

I  shall  close  this  letter  by  putting  you  on  your 
guard  against  a  particular  weakness  which  I  have 
often  observed  to  have  a  place,  and  to  exert  no 
small  influence,  among  associates  in  college.  I 
mean  the  cowardice  and  servility  of  those  who  feel 
as  if  they  were  bound  to  imitate  their  companions 
in  every  thing;  and  as  if  all  departure  from  this 
imitation  were  to  be  considered  as  so  many  marks 
of  painful  inferiority.  Often — very  often — have  I 
known  youthful  members  of  college  anxious  to  be 


264  ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 

like  their  classmates,  and  other  associates,  in  every 
thing;  following  the  same  fashions;  going  to  the 
same  places  of  resort;  manifesting  the  same  supe- 
riority to  parental  supervision  and  restraint;  and 
mortified  if  they  cbnld  not  take  the  same  liberties, 
and  display  the  same  independence  in  all  their 
movements.  This  is  so  far  from  being  a  manly, 
independent  spirit,  that  it  is  directly  the  reverse. 
It  argues  a  weak  dependence  on  others  for  giving 
law  to  our  conduct.  Is  it  manly  or  wise  to  follow 
the  shadows  of  others,  perhaps  no  more  entitled  to 
be  a  model  than  yourselves?  If  you  do  not  follow 
their  example,  is  it  not  quite  as  true  that  they  do 
not  follow  yours?  Besides,  if  you  must  be  con- 
formed to  the  wishes  of  others,  is  it  not  much  bet- 
ter that  you  should  consult  the  judgment,  and  be 
regulated  by  the  wishes  of  those  who  know  you 
best,  who  love  you  most,  who  take  a  deeper  in- 
terest in  your  welfare,  and  understand  what  will 
promote  that  welfare  better  than  any  others;  than 
that  you  should  follow  in  the  wake  of  inexperi- 
enced, thoughtless  companions,  who  are  miserable 
judges  of  what  is  best  either  for  you  or  themselves; 
who  actually  care  nothing  about  your  real  welfare; 
and  only  wish  to  make  you  subservient  to  their 
present  pleasure?  I  have  been  a  thousand  times 
both  surprised  and  disgusted  to  find  amiable  and 
ingenuous  youth,  so  cowardly  and  servile  in  their 
constant  reference   to   the   habits  of  their  fellow 


ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS.  265 

Students,  that  they  were  ready  to  break  through 
the  wishes,  and  even  the  authority  of  parents  and 
guardians  for  the  sake  of  indulging  this  imitative 
spirit.  Those  who  feel  and  act  thus  may  imagine 
that  they  manifest  manliness  and  independence  of 
character;  but  they  were  never  more  deceived.  In 
the  whole  business  they  are  displaying  a  childish 
reliance  on  the  authority  of  children  like  them- 
selves, as  weak  as  it  is  mischievous. 


23 


266 


LETTER  XV. 

LITERARY  SOCIETIES  IN  COLLEGE. 


Concordia,  res  parvae  crescunt,  discordia,  maximse  dilabuntur. 

Sallust. 
Comes  jucundus  in  via  pro  vehiculo  est. — Publ.  Syr. 


My  Dear  Sons, 

The  "  American  Whig"  and  "  Cliosophic"  socie- 
ties have  long  existed  in  the  College  of  New  Jersey, 
and  have  exerted  no  small  influence  on  the  im- 
provement and  character  of  its  students.  I  will 
not  trouble  you  now  with  any  details  of  the  history 
of  those  societies.  You  know  that  the  great  pro- 
fessed purpose  of  their  institution  was  that  they 
might  promote  some  important  objects  which  the 
ordinary  exercises  of  the  college  were  not  so  well 
adapted  to  secure,  particularly  a  spirit  of  fraternal 
friendship  among  the  students,  and  also  a  laudable 
emulation  in  literature,  science,  manners  and  mo- 
rals. Such  is  the  theory  of  these  institutions;  and 
if  their  actual  administration  had  always  been  in 
faithful  conformity  with  this  theory,  they  would, 
no  doubt,  have  produced  fruits  of  far  greater  value 


LITERARY  SOCIETIES  IN  COLLEGE.  267 

than  have  been  ever  realized.  But  large  allow- 
ance must  always  be  made  for  the  management  of 
every  association  conducted  by  ardent  young  men, 
of  little  experience,  of  sanguine  feelings,  and  of 
much  self-confidence. 

Still  these  societies  are  truly  valuable,  and  worthy 
of  encouragement;  and  it  gives  me  pleasure  to  know- 
that  you  are  connected  with  one  of  them.  My 
great  design  in  referring  to  the  subject  is  to  take  an 
opportunity  of  urging  upon  you  to  prize  this  con- 
nection highly,  and  to  study,  by  all  the  means  in 
your  power,  to  make  it  profitable  to  yourselves 
and  all  your  fellow  members. 

You  are  aware  of  the  evils  which  are  apt  to 
arise  and  to  interfere  both  with  the  comfort  and 
the  usefulness  of  such  associations  among  young 
men  in  college.  The  same  evils  which  disturb  all 
other  society  are  apt,  of  course,  to  operate  here. 
Beside  these,  there  are  many  arising  from  the  in- 
experience, the  ardour,  the  rashness,  the  vanity,  the 
pride,  and  the  other  passions  of  youth.  It  has  been 
sometimes  observed,  that  there  are  no  discipli- 
narians more  rigorous,  and  even  intolerant  than 
young  men.  But  their  rigour  is  apt  to  be  spas- 
modic and  unseasonable,  and  to  be  followed  by 
paroxysms  of  indulgence,  levity,  irritation,  dis- 
order, and  even  violence  far  more  revolting  than 
their  spasms  of  rigour.  If  the  same  members  could 
continue  to  act  for  twenty  or  thirty  years  together, 


268  LITERARY  SOCIETIES  IN  COLLEGE. 

these  evils  would  be  gradually,  but  certainly  dimi- 
nished. This,  however,  cannot  be  the  case.  A 
constant  succession  of  the  raw,  the  ardent,  and  the 
.inexperienced,  are  destined  to  be  the  counsellors 
and  the  guides  in  every  measure. 

The  simple  statement  of  these  evils  will  itself  go 
far  toward  furnishing  an  index  both  to  their  pre- 
vention and  their  correction.  You  ought  to  be 
continually  learning  in  the  hall  of  your  society  not 
only  those  lessons  which  will  tend  to  your  improve- 
ment in  mental  culture,  and  in  literary  acquirement 
and  taste;  but  also  in  whatever  is  adapted  to  refine 
your  moral  and  social  feelings,  and  polish  your 
manners.  Here  you  ought  continually  to  cherish 
that  generous,  fraternal  emulation  which  seeks  to 
excel,  and,  instead  of  sickening  with  envy  at  the 
talents  and  success  of  others,  is  stimulated  by  laud- 
able efforts  to  overtake  and  surpass  them.  Here 
you  ought  to  be  constantly  excited  to  higher  and 
higher  acquisitions  in  every  intellectual  accomplish- 
ment. Here  it  ought  to  be  your  aim,  amidst  all 
the  diversities  of  temper,  all  the  jarrings  of  youthful 
passion  and  all  the  ebuUitionsof  ignorance,  inexpe- 
rience and  rashness,  to  cherish  with  studious  care 
the  virtues  of  self-command,  prudence,  gentleness, 
and  habitual  respectfulness.  The  hall  of  your 
society  may  be  regarded  as  a  foretaste  of  what  you 
are  to  meet  with,  on  a  greater  scale,  on  the  theatre 
of  the  world.     It  has  been  your  fortune  to  be  per- 


LITERARY  SOCIETIES  IN  COLLEGE.  269 

sonally  acquainted  with  some,  who,  amidst  all  the 
folly,  the  turbulence,  the  vulgarity,  and  the  ill- 
manners  of  many  with  whom  they  came  in  contact, 
were  never  involved  in  any  embarrassing  quarrel, 
but  steered  through  life  with  a  remarkable  exemp- 
tion from  feuds  and  animosities.  And  you  have 
known  others  so  morbidly  touchy  and  inflammable 
themselves,  and,  at  the  same  time,  so  regardless  of 
the  feelings  of  others,  as  to  be  perpetually  involved 
in  broils  and  conflicts  wherever  they  went.  Tem- 
pers and  scenes  of  both  these  classes  are  not  un- 
known even  in  the  halls  of  literary  societies.  And  I 
would  earnestly  exhort  you  to  let  your  hall,  when- 
ever it  may  be  opened,  be  a  place  of  moral  as  well 
as  intellectual  discipline.  To  this  end,  the  follow- 
ing counsels,  I  will  venture  confidently  to  say,  are 
worthy  of  your  serious  consideration. 

1.  Faithfully  resist  the  election  of  any  member 
into  your  society  who  is  known  to  be  ren)arkable 
for  his  bad  scholarship,  his  vulgar  or  immoral  habits, 
or  his  insolent,  perverse  temper.  Let  no  tempta- 
tion of  adding  to  your  numbers  induce  you  to  vote 
for  admitting  any  student  of  this  character.  Such 
persons,  when  unfortunately  introduced,  seldom 
fail  to  give  more  trouble  than  they  are  worth. 
They  weaken  and  degrade,  rather  than  strengthen, 
any  society  to  which  they  belong;  and  sometimes 
have  been  known,  by  their  vulgar  profligate  inso- 
lence, to  inflict  lasting  disgrace,  and  all  but  ruin  on 
23* 


270  LITERARY  SOCIETIES  IN  COLLEGE. 

the  body  with  which  they  were  connected.  Let 
nothing  deter  you  from  opposing  their  introduction. 
Do  it  mildly;  do  it  in  guarded  language;  and  if  no 
other  method  be  likely  to  succeed,  propose  respect- 
fully a  committee  of  inquiry;  and  inform  that 
committee  confidentially  of  the  reasons  of  your 
opposition.  If  this  were  faithfully  done,  no  one 
can  estimate  the  happy  influence  which  might 
thereby  be  exerted  on  the  character  of  a  band  of 
students. 

2.  Be  perfectly  punctual  in  your  attendance  on 
all  the  meetings  of  the  society  to  which  you  be- 
long; and  perform  with  diligence  and  fidelity  every 
task  which  its  rules  may  impose  upon  you.  Never 
either  neglect  or  slight  any  exercise  which  it 
becomes  your  duty  to  perform.  That  which  is 
worth  doing  at  all  is  worth  doing  well.  To  refuse 
the  time  and  labour  necessary  to  its  execution  in 
the  best  manner,  is  doing  injustice  to  your  fellow 
members,  as  well  as  cheating  yourselves.  If  the 
principles  of  the  society  are  not  faithfully  carried 
into  execution,  it  might  as  well,  nay  better,  be  dis- 
banded. 

3.  Make  a  point  of  addressing  all  your  fellow 
members  with  politeness  and  respect.  Let  your 
hall,  so  far  as  you  are  concerned,  be  a  school  of  the 
strictest  urbanity  and  respectfulness.  Let  no  oppo- 
site tone  or  conduct  on  the  part  of  others  tempt 
you,  for  a  moment,  to  deviate  from  this  course. 


LITERARY  SOCIETIES  IN  COLLEGE.  271 

"A  soft  answer  turneth  away  wrath."  Nothing 
tends  more  directly  to  disarm  passion  or  insolence 
than  either  a  dignified  silence  in  some  cases,  and  in 
others  a  rigid  observance  of  the  laws  of  urbanity 
and  respectfulness.  I  know  it  is  your  desire  to  avoid 
all  those  feuds,  broils,  and  scenes  of  violence  which 
are  so  apt  to  grow  out  of  youthful  animosities,  and 
which  are  too  frequently  followed  by  results  as 
criminal  as  they  are  silly  and  contemptible.  It  is 
impossible  to  measure  the  happy  influence  which 
one  member  of  such  a  society  whose  example  is 
perfectly  correct  and  gentlemanly,  may  impart  to 
all  his  fellow  members. 

4.  Endeavour,  by  all  the  means  in  your  power, 
to  render  the  society  to  which  you  belong  a  source 
o{  discipline  in  morals,  2iS  \ve\\  as  in  literary  and 
scientific  improvement.  Remember  that  you  are 
bound  by  the  principles  of  your  institution  to  frown 
upon  all  disorder  and  immorality,  as  well  as  upon 
bad  scholarship,  and  intellectual  negligence.  Of 
course,  no  student  known  to  be  habitually  immoral 
ought  to  be  admitted  into  your  society;  and  when- 
ever it  becomes  apparent  that  any  one  who  has 
been  admitted  is  immoral,  he  ought  immediately 
to  be  suspended,  and  if  he  persist  in  his  delin- 
quency, he  ought  to  be  forthwith  expelled.  A  few 
such  examples  would  do  a  literary  society  essential 
good;  would  do  more  to  elevate  its  character,  and, 
in  the  end,  to  add  to  its  numbers,  than  could  well 


272  LITERARY  SOCIETIES  IN  COLLEGE. 

be  told.  Let  every  member  recollect  that  a  large 
portion  of  the  trust  for  keeping  the  society  to  which 
he  belongs  in  this  state  of  moral  health  is  com- 
mitted to  him;  and  that  he  I'.an  do  more  by  bear- 
ing a  faithful  testimony,  fiom  time  to  time,  in 
favour  of  moral  correctness  than  he  would  easily 
believe.  By  throwing  out  proper  sentiments  on 
this  subject  upon  all  suitable  occasions,  and  by 
voting  for  strict  discipline  in  all  cases  of  delin- 
quency, each  one  may  become  a  conservator  of  the 
moral  character,  and  consequently  of  the  true  ho- 
nour of  the  society  to  an  extent  which  invests 
every  member  with  a  mighty  power  of  doing 
good. 

5.  You  are  aware  that  most  of  the  literary  socie- 
ties in  colleges  avail  themselves  of  the  principle  of 
secrecy  to  increase  curiosity  and  interest  in  their 
favour.  Whether  this  feature  in  their  constitutions 
is  dictated  by  wisdom,  and  confers  any  real  advan- 
tage, is  a  question  which  I  do  not  think  proper 
now  to  discuss.  No  one,  however,  of  correct  and 
honourable  feelings  can  doubt  for  a  moment  that, 
as  long  as  this  principle  is  actually  incorporated  in 
i\w  plan  of  any  society  to  which  he  belongs,  he  is 
bound  strictly  and  delicately  to  adhere  to  it,  and 
to  avoid  every  thing  which  borders  on  an  infringe- 
ment of  it.  Nay  more;  if  any  of  the  secrets  of  a 
rival  socitty  should  by  any  means  become  known 
to  you,  my  judgment  is,  that  true  delicacy  of  senti- 


LITERARY  SOCIETIES  IN  COLLEGE.  273 

ment  ought  to  prevent  you  from  divulging  them  to 
a  human  being.  If  a  son  of  mine,  after  accidentally 
becoming  possessed  of  such  secrets,  were  to  dis- 
close them,  I  should  consider  him  as  dishonoured. 

6.  Guard  with  sacred  care  against  a  spirit  of  carp- 
ing arid  animosity  toward  a  rival  society.  This 
is  a  very  mischievous  evil.  "The  beginning  of  it 
is  like  the  letting  out  of  water."  It  generates 
strife.  It  occupies  time  which  ought  to  be  reserved 
for  higher  and  better  objects.  And  in  some  cases 
it  has  grown  to  a  mass  of  mischief  which  no  one 
anticipated,  and  over  which  all  mourned.  Evils 
of  this  kind,  every  one  sees  afterwards,  might 
easily  have  been  prevented  by  a  small  measure  of 
coolness  and  prudence  in  the  beginning.  I  firmly 
believe  that  the  most  of  those  disagreements  which 
have  interfered  with  amicable  and  pleasant  co- 
operation in  public  festive  services  between  rival 
societies,  have  arisen  either  from  the  littleness  of 
punctilio,  or  from  the  equally  censurable  littleness 
of  false  honour,  and  weak  jealousy,  which  ought 
to  have  no  place  in  elevated  minds. 

7.  But  especially  be  careful  in  no  case  to  allow 
your  society  to  set  itself  against  the  authority  of 
the  college.  This  is  like  a  civil  war  in  the  state, 
always  to  be  avoided  at  almost  any  sacrifice. 
Even  when  the  authority  of  the  college  is  mani- 
festly acting  under  an  entire  mistake  in  regard  to 
facts,  there   may   be,  without   impropriety,  calm 


274  LITERARY  SOCIETIES  IN  COLLEGE. 

Statements,  and  even  respectful  remonstrance;  but 
in  no  case  an  attempt  to  exercise  counter  autho- 
rity. Any  society  in  a  literary  institution  which 
should  attempt  this,  in  any  form,  ought  instantly  to 
be  dissolved.  A  faculty  would  be  v/anting  to 
itself,  and  unfaithful  to  the  institution  committed  to 
its  care,  which  should  suffer  such  a  rebellious 
society  to  exist  for  a  single  hour. 

8.  I  will  only  add,  let  it  be  your  constant  study 
to  render  the  society  to  which  you  belong  as  re- 
spectable, as  useful,  and  as  happy  as  possible.  It 
has  been  delightful  to  observe  how  some  indivi- 
duals have  endeared  themselves  to  the  society  to 
which  they  belonged,  by  an  amiable  getitlemanly 
deportment;  by  a  faithful  discharge  of  all  the  duties 
which  they  owed  to  it;  by  embracing  every  oppor- 
tunity of  promoting  its  best  interests,  and  adding  to 
its  true  honour.  In  the  records  of  every  such 
society  you  always  find  a  few  names  handed  down 
as  benefactors  from  one  generation  of  students  to 
another.  Let  it  be  your  study  thus  to  transmit 
your  own  names  with  honour  to  coming  times. 


375 


LETTER   XVI. 

DRESS. 

-"  Of  outward  form 


Elaborate,  of  inward  less  exact." — Milton. 

My  Dear  Sons, 

There  are  two  extremes  in  regard  to  dress  into 
which  I  have  observed  that  college  students  are 
apt  to  fall.  The  one  is  a  total  negligence  of  it,  lead- 
ing to  a  disgusting  slovenliness;  the  other  a  degree 
of  scrupulous  attention  to  it,  which  indicates  fop- 
pery and  dandyism.  It  is  my  earnest  desire  that 
none  of  my  sons  may  fall  into  either  of  these  ex- 
tremes. And  let  it  be  remembered  that  they  are 
both  peculiarly  apt  to  be  adopted  by  students  who 
board  and  lodge  together  in  the  same  public  edifice. 
There  is  something  in  the  gregarious  principle, 
which  while  it  is  productive  of  much  good,  is  by 
no  means  unattended  with  serious  evil. 

Some  good  scholars,  and  young  men  otherwise 
entirely  exemplary,  have  been  notoriously  slovenly 
in  their  dress.     But  it  was  a  real  blemish  in  their 


276  DRESS. 

character,  and  was  connected  with  no  little  disad- 
vantage.    It  is  no  disgrace  to  a  student  to  be  poor; 
to  be  obliged  to  wear  a  threadbare,  and  even  a 
patclied  garment.     It  is  rather  to  his  honour,  and 
ought  to  be  so  felt  by  him,  to  be  strictly  economical; 
to  dress  according  to  his  circumstances;  and  never 
to  purchase  new  clothes  until  he  is  able  honestly  to 
pay  for  them.     He  who  does  otherwise  is  really 
the  mean  and  dishonest  man.     But  let  not  his  eco- 
nomical dress  be  slouching  or  filthy.     Let  him  not 
walk  about  among  his  fellows,  for  hours  after  rising, 
with  his  shoes  down  at  the  heel,  with  his  stockings 
hanging  loose  about  his  legs;  or  dny  part  of  his 
clothing  visibly  begrimed  with  dirt.     Cleanliness 
and  neatness  are  among  the  moral  virtues,  and  can 
never  be   neglected  by  any  one  with  impunity. 
We  have  no  more  right  to  render  our  persons  dis- 
gusting to  those  who  approach  us,  than  we  have  to 
mutilate  and  enfeeble  them.    It  is  a  duty,  however 
scanty  or  old  our  garments  may  be,  to  see  that  they 
be  neat  and  clean,  and  that  our  persons  be  kept, 
according  to  the  best  of  our  ability,  in  a  manner 
evincing  decency  and   care,     I  have   sometimes 
seen  young  men  passing  through  the  corridors  of 
college,  and  entering  the  recitation  rooms,  and  even 
the  prayer-hall,  with  their  dress  so  broken,  slovenly 
and  dirty,  as  manifested  little  respect  either  for 
their  instructors,  or  the  God  whom  they  professed 
to  worship,  or  even  for  themselves. 


DRESS.  277 

But  there  is  another  extreme  against  which  every 
student  ought  to  be  put  on  his  guard.  I  mean  that 
of  inordinate  and  idolatrous  attention  to  dress, 
which  manifests  the  expenditure  of  much  time  and 
money  on  the  object,  and  which  designates  the  fop 
and  the  dandy.  The  wise  youth,  the  real  gentle- 
man, will  always  try  to  dress  in  such  a  manner  as 
not  to  draw  attention  at  all  to  his  dress.  His  only 
study  will  be  to  have  it  always  so  plain,  simple, 
neat  and  becoming  his  character,  as  that  no  one 
will  find  occasion  to  take  special  notice  of  it.  Hap- 
pily you  are  not  able  to  dress  in  a  profuse  and  ex- 
pensive manner.  The  circumstances  of  your  father 
forbid  your  indulging  yourselves  in  that  ornate  and 
splendid  costume  to  which,  perhaps,  your  inclina- 
tions, if  unrestrained,  might  lead.  But  if  I  were 
ever  so  wealthy,  my  judgment  would  be  against 
allowing  you  to  indulge  in  costly  and  extravagant 
adorning  of  the  body,  which  is  criminal  in  itself, 
and  which  seldom  fails  to  mark  the  frivolous  mind. 
I  never  knew  a  diligent  student,  a  really  good 
scholar,  to  indulge  in  this  habit;  and  whenever  I 
see  a  young  man  falling  into  it,  I  always  involun- 
tarily set  him  down  in  my  own  mind  as  a  poor 
trifler. 

If  you  ask  me,  where  is  the  harm  of  indulging 

in  showy  and  expensive  habits  of  dress?    I  answer, 

it  must  occupy  a  large  share  of  time  and  attention, 

which  ought  to  be  bestowed  on  better  objects;  and 

24 


27S  DRESS. 

hence  those  students  who  are  distinguished  by 
ostentatious  and  expensive  clothing  are  never  good 
scholars.  It  would  be  almost  encroaching  on  the 
province  of  miracle  if  they  were.  But  this  is  not 
all.  This  habit  is  adapted  to  do  mischief  among 
their  fellow  students.  Those  who  cannot  afford, 
and  ought  not  to  attempt  to  indulge  in  the  same 
habit,  are  often  tempted  to  imitate  it,  and  thus  their 
parents  become  unnecessarily  involved  in  an  ex- 
pense altogether  inconvenient  and  perhaps  distress- 
ing. By  this  means  the  cost  of  a  college  education 
is  greatly  increased,  and  placed  beyond  the  reach 
of  many  who  might  otherwise  enjoy  it.  Nor  is 
this  the  worst  effect.  By  emulating  the  habits  in 
this  respect  of  the  sons  of  the  wealthy,  the  sons  of 
those  in  less  affluent  circumstances  are  tempted, 
contrary  to  the  laws  of  the  college,  to  get  that  upon 
improper  credit,  which  they  were  not  able  to  pay 
for,  and  which  ought  never  to  have  been  gotten  at 
all,  and  thus  shut  themselves  up  to  the  distressing 
and  humiliating  dilemma,  of  either  bringing  an 
unauthorized  and  burdensome  debt  on  their  pa- 
rents; or  of  ultimately  defrauding  the  tradesman 
who  was  weak  enough,  or  wicked  enough  to  give 
them  credit.  If  there  be  any  student  so  unprin- 
cipled as  to  reply,  that  he  does  not  feel  bound  to 
regard  such  considerations— that  he  cares  for  no- 
thing but  his  own  comfort — be  it  known  to  such 
an  one,  that  he  stands  on  substantially  the  same 


DRESS.  279 

ground  with  the  burglar  and  the  highwayman, 
who  act  upon  the  principle  of  consulting  their  own 
comfort  at  the  expense  of  others,  which  is,  in  fact, 
the  vital  spirit  of  all  crime. 

There  is  another  fault  in  regard  to  dress  of  which 
I  cannot  help  expressing  strong  reprobation.  I 
mean  the  disposition  manifested  by  some  to  wear 
fantastic  dresses,  not  particularly  expensive,  per- 
haps not  so  expensive  as  many  plainer  and  more 
simple  garments;  but  whimsical,  queer,  and  adapted 
to  excite  ridicule  wherever  they  are  seen.  1  remem- 
ber one  young  man,  who,  a  number  of  years  ago, 
appeared  in  our  college  campus,  and  in  our  streets, 
in  a  dress  of  the  most  ridiculous  kind.  Wherever 
he  went  he  attracted  the  notice,  and  excited  the 
laughter  of  all  classes.  This  seemed  to  gratify  him; 
for  he  was  incapable  of  attaining  any  more  laudable 
distinction;  and  he  persisted  in  wearing  the  garment 
for  a  considerable  time.  He  was  hissed,  and  all 
but  insulted  by  the  boys  in  the  streets,  and  might 
have  been  involved  in  serious  broils  with  his  assail- 
ants, had  he  not,  fortunately,  possessed  a  baby-like 
weakness,  rather  than  an  irritable  or  pugnacious 
temperament.  It  is  easy  to  conceive  how  such 
a  dress  might  involve  its  wearer  in  perpetual  diffi- 
culty, and  even  in  fatal  conflicts. 

It  is  well  known,  that,  in  some  literary  institu- 
tions there  is  a  prescribed  dress,  or  uniform,  in 
which  all  its  pupils  daily  appear,  and  which  it  is 


280  DRESS. 

not  lawful  to  lay  aside  excepting  in  vacation,  when 
absent  from  the  institution,  or,  at  any  rate,  exempt 
from  its  rules.  There  appear  to  me  to  be  some 
very  substantial  advantages  in  this  regulation.  In 
the  first  place,  it  promotes  economy;  for  the  pre- 
scribed dress  is  always  plain,  simple,  cheap  and 
easily  procured,  and,  when  obtained  by  wholesale, 
for  large  numbers,  will  bo,  of  course,  reduced  in 
price.  Secondly,  it  destroys  that  expensive  emula- 
tion in  dress,  to  which  I  have  before  referred,  as  so 
full  of  mischief.  As  all  must  dress  alike,  it  leaves 
no  room  for  ostentatious  display.  And,  thirdly^ 
where  this  rule  is  in  operation,  all  the  students  of 
the  institution  are  known  by  their  costume; — so 
that  the  moment  they  are  seen,  they  can  be  distin- 
guished from  all  others.  This  appears  to  me  an 
effect  of  no  small  importance.  I  have  always  con- 
sidered it  as  highly  desirable  that  the  pupils  of  any 
institution  should  be  distinguishable  at  all  times, 
day  and  night,  from  the  youth  of  the  surrounding 
population.  It  operates  as  a  restraint,  as  a  safe- 
guard, and  has,  doubtless,  prevented  a  thousand 
mischiefs  which  would  otherwise  have  occurred, 
and  been  the  means  of  dragging  to  light  a  thou- 
sand more  which  might  have  been  for  ever  hidden 
from  human  view. 

For  myself  I  have  always  regretted  that  the  old 
practice  of  wearing  the  black  gown  in  the  recitation 
room,  in  the  chapel,  and  on  all  public  occasions. 


DRESS.  281 

has  been  laid  aside  by  the  students  of  Nassau  Hall, 
and,  I  believe,  by  those  of  most  other  colleges  in  the 
United  States.  In  our  commencement  exercises 
alone,  if  I  mistake  not,  this  appendage  is  retained; 
and  in  some  other  colleges  it  is,  even  on  these  oc- 
casions, discarded.  This  is,  in  my  opinion,  an 
improvement  the  backward  way.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  this  particular  costume  had,  when  it  was  worn, 
a  beneficial  effect  on  the  feelings  of  the  individual 
who  wore  it;  that  it  led  him  to  recollect  his  respon- 
sibility; to  feel  that  he  was  observed,  and  to  main- 
tain a  deportment  growing  out  of  this  feeling.  Nor 
can  I  hesitate  to  believe,  that  an  impression  was 
made  by  it  on  the  minds  of  others  by  no  means 
without  profit.  Forms  may  be  carried  so  far  as  to 
eat  out  all  substance;  but  it  is  also  true  that  they 
may  be  so  far  abandoned  as  to  carry  all  refinement 
and  decorum,  and  especially  all  dignity,  with  them. 


24* 


282 


LETTER    XVII. 

CARE  OF  THE  STUDENT'S  ROOM. 

"  He  who  can  sit  with  comfort  in  a  disorderly  room,  cannot  have 
an  orderly  mind."— Anon. 

My  Dear  Sons, 

The  Vnaxim  of  the  lawj^'ers,  De  minimis  non 
curat  lex,  though  wise  and  appUcable  in  juridical 
matters,  is  not  equally  safe  and  sound  in  many  of 
the  affairs  of  common  life,  and  especially  in  the 
large  department  of  human  conduct  comprehended 
under  the  general  title  of  personal  manners  and 
habits.  The  comfort  of  ordinary  life  depends  much 
less  upon  great  actions  and  movements,  which 
occur  only  now  and  then,  than  on  the  minor  con- 
cerns of  temper,  language  and  order,  which  belong 
to  every  hour,  and  exert  an  influence  on  all  the 
enjoyments  of  life. 

The  maintenance  of  perfect  order,  in  the  apart- 
ment which  you  occupy,  is  a  matter  of  more  im- 
portance, and  has  a  more  direct  bearing  on  your 
comfort,  and  even  your  success  in  study,  than  you 
would,  at  first  view,  imagine.     So  deep  is  my  per- 


CARE  OP  THE  STUDENt's  ROOM.       283 

suasion  of  this,  that  I  am  induced  to  make  it  the 
subject  of  a  distinct  but  brief  letter,  which,  I  trust, 
will  be  sufficiently  interesting  in  your  view  to  en- 
gage your  serious  attention. 

If  the  motto  which  stands  at  the  head  of  this 
letter  be  considered  as  expressing  a  correct  senti- 
ment, then  the  subject  of  it  ought  not  to  be  regarded 
as  a  trivial  matter.  That  which  either  indicates  a 
disorderly  mind,  or  which  is  adapted  to  increase 
and  perpetuate  this  evil,  surely  ought  to  be  avoided 
with  studious  care.  Many  people  judge  of  a  stu- 
dent by  the  appearance  of  his  room;  and  certainly 
when  it  lies  in  disorder  and  dirt,  no  favourable 
estimate  of  his  character  can  possibly  be  drawn 
from  it. 

It  is  possible  that  some  students  who  affect 
slovenliness  in  their  dress,  as  an  evidence  that  they 
are  too  much  absorbed  in  study  to  think  of  their 
persons,  may  affect  the  same  carelessness  in  regard 
to  the  apartments  which  they  occupy.  I  will  not 
pronounce  all  such  appearances  the  result  of  mere 
affectation;  but,  beyond  all  doubt,  they  mark  a 
lamentable  defect  of  character,  and  cannot  fail  to 
deduct  seriously  from  both  the  comfort  and  the 
usefulness  of  the  individual  to  whom  they  belong. 

A  disorderly  and  unclean  apartment  is  unfriendly 
to  the  comfortable  and  uninterrupted  pursuit  of 
study.  The  physical  inconvenience  to  which  it 
gives  rise,  can  scarcely  fail   to   interfere  with  a 


284       CARE  OF  THE  STUDENT's  ROOM. 

pleasant  flow  of  mental  thought.  When  books 
are  out  of  their  proper  places;  when  all  the  means 
of  study  are  in  disorder,  it  would  be  strange  indeed 
if  the  operations  of  the  mind  could  proceed  in  as 
smooth  and  unobstructed  a  manner  as  if  the  exter- 
nal circumstances  were  different. 

Make  a  point,  then,  of  keeping  every  thing  in 
your  study  in  a  state  of  perfect  neatness  and  regu- 
larity. Whether  your  books  be  few  or  many,  keep 
them  in  their  proper  places,  and  in  perfect  order. 
Let  all  your  manuscripts  be  so  arranged  as  that 
you  shall  be  able  to  lay  your  hand  upon  any  one 
of  them  in  a  moment.  Tie  your  pamphlets  in 
bundles,  in  a  certain  order,  understood  by  yourself, 
and  as  soon  as  may  be  get  them  bound  in  conve- 
nient volumes.  Fold,  label,  and  deposit  in  proper 
drawers,  all  loose  papers,  so  as  to  be  at  no  loss  to 
find  any  one  of  them  whenever  called  for.  And, 
in  general,  let  every  thing  in  your  study  bear  the 
marks  of  order,  system,  and  perfect  neatness.  You 
can  have  no  conception,  without  having  made  the 
experiment,  how  much  time  and  trouble  will  be 
saved  by  the  adoption  of  this  plan.  When  you 
are  tempted  to  think  that  you  have  not  time  to  put 
a  book  or  paper  which  you  have  been  using  into 
its  proper  place,  ask  yourselves  whether  it  may  not 
cost  you  an  hour  or  more  afterwards  to  search  for 
that  which  half  a  minute  would  have  sufficed  to 
deposit  in  its  appropriate  situation?     Let  me  advise 


CARE  OF  THE  STUDENt's  ROOM.       285 

you  also  to  preserve  and  file  copies  of  all  your 
letters,  and  especially  those  on  any  kind  of  busi- 
ness; and  when  you  cannot  find  time  for  this,  to 
keep  at  least  a  distinct  memorandum  of  the  dates, 
principal  contents,  convej'-ance,  &c.,  of  all  such 
letters.  You  will,  in  the  end,  save  more  time  by 
this  regularity  than  you  can  now  easily  imagine. 
Among  the  many  omissions  in  my  early  life,  I 
have  a  thousand  times  lamented  my  having  omit- 
ted, for  many  years,  to  keep  copies  of  my  business 
letters,  and  to  preserve  and  file,  in  proper  order, 
other  important  papers,  so  as  to  have  them  acces- 
sible at  any  time  without  the  loss  of  a  moment. 
How  much  time  I  have  lost,  and  how  much  trouble 
I  have  incurred  by  this  failure,  no  arithmetic  at  my 
command  can  calculate. 

Some  of  the  most  eminent  men,  for  wisdom  and 
usefulness,  that  the  world  has  ever  seen,  were 
remarkable  for  their  attention  to  the  subject  of  this 
letter.  Washington^  the  father  of  his  country, 
from  his  early  youth,  was  distinguished  for  his 
perfect  method  and  neatness  in  every  thing. — 
During  the  whole  of  his  public  life,  we  are  told,  he 
was  punctual  in  filing  and  labeling  every  paper, 
however  small,  or  apparently  trivial,  which  related 
to  any  concern  or  act  of  his  life;  even  notes  of 
ceremony;  not  knowing  what  measure  of  import- 
ance any  such  paper  might  afterwards  assume.  So 
that  no  written  document  could  be  called  for,  re- 


2S6       CARE  OP  THE  STUDENT's  ROOM. 

lating  to  his  official  life,  which  he  could  not  at  any 
time  produce. 

Let  no  student  say,  that  his  papers  can  never  be 
so  important  as  were  those  of  Washington;  and 
that,  therefore,  there  cannot  be  the  same  induce- 
ment to  preserve,  and  keep  them  in  order.  It  is, 
indeed,  by  no  means  probable  that  your  papers 
will  be  as  important  to  \he  public,  as  those  of  that 
illustrious  man  were;  but  they  may  be  of  quite  as 
much  importance  to  yourself;  and  no  man  can  tell 
of  how  much  interest  they  may  be  to  your  country. 
Peculiar  and  unexpected  circumstances  may  invest 
them  with  a  degree  of  importance  which  you  can 
not  now  anticipate.  At  any  rate,  disposing  them 
in  proper  and  convenient  order,  and  depositing 
them  where  they  may  be  found  in  a  moment,  will 
occupy  but  little  time,  and  may,  long  afterwards, 
serve  purposes  which  you  little  imagined. 

The  celebrated  Mr.  Whitfield,  that  "prince  of 
preachers,"  in  the  last  century,  was  greatly  dis- 
tinguished, from  early  life,  for  neatness  in  his  per- 
son, for  order  in  his  apartment,  and  for  regular 
method  in  his  affairs.  He  was  accustomed  to  say, 
that  a  minister  should  be  "  without  spot;"  and 
remarked,  on  one  occasion,  that  he  could  not  feel 
comfortable,  if  he  knew  that  his  gloves  were  out  of 
their  proper  place.  The  advantages  of  establishing 
such  habits  are  too  numerous  to  be  specified.  They 


CARE  OF  THE  STUDENt's  ROOM.  287 

save  time;  and  the  degree  of  comfort  they  give 
cannot  be  easily  measured. 

The  biographers  of  the  late  celebrated  Mr.  fFil- 
herforce,  tell  us,  that  that  great  and  good  man  was 
rather  remarkably  careless  in  regard  to  regularity 
and  order  in  his  study.  While  he  was  indefatigably 
diligent  in  his  labours  for  the  public,  his  books  and 
papers  were  always  in  disorder,  lying  in  heaps, 
and  frequently  giving  rise  to  perplexity  and  delay 
in  searching  for  that  which  was  wanted.  On  more 
than  one  occasion,  important  papers,  when  called 
for  by  some  of  the  most  elevated  persons  in  the 
kingdom,  were  out  of  their  proper  place,  and  not 
to  be  found;  and  gave  rise  to  an  agitation  and  loss 
of  time  not  a  little  painful. 

Good  farmers  and  mechanics  tell  us,  that  it  is 
important  to  have  "a  place  for  every  thing,  and 
every  thing  in  its  place."  This  maxim  is  quite  as 
applicable  and  important  to  the  student  as  to  any 
one  else.  The  punctual  observance  of  it  not  only 
saves  time,  as  the  slightest  consideration  will 
evince,  but  it  tends  to  preserve  tranquillity  of  mind; 
and,  what  in  many  cases  is  still  more  important,  it 
may  prevent  the  entire  loss  of  papers,  books,  or 
other  articles  left  out  of  their  proper  places. 


2S8 


LETTER   XVIII. 

EXPENSES. 

"  0C(St9  Ti»y  XTSayaiv." 
"Suum  cuique." 

My  Dear  Sons, 

It  is  well  known  that  the  greater  part  of  the 
students  in  our  colleges  belong  to  families  in  very- 
moderate,  and  not  a  few  of  them  in  straitened  cir- 
cumstances, insomuch  that  many  of  them  find  it 
extremely  difficult  to  meet  the  expenses  of  the  in- 
stitution; and  to  some  it  would  be  impossible  with- 
out the  aid  of  charitable  funds.  If  we  could  go 
through  all  the  classes  in  these  institutions,  and 
examine  the  real  circumstances  of  each  individual, 
we  should  find  many  parents  subjecting  themselves 
and  their  families  to  the  most  pinching  economy, 
really  denying  themselves  some  comforts  which 
many  would  call  indispensable,  for  the  sake  of  sus- 
taining their  sons  through  a  course  of  education. 
In  other  cases  we  should  see  sons  subjecting  them- 
selves to  a  rigour  of  economy  truly  severe,  and 


EXPENSES.  289 

which,  if  it  could  be  generally  known,  would  be 
regarded  as  at  once  marvellous  and  honourable, 
as  marking  extraordinary  decision  of  character 

While  this  is  the  case  with  one  class  of  students, 
there  is  another  whose  course  belongs  to  the  oppo- 
site extreme.  Their  supplies  of  money  are  abun- 
dant. In  consequence  of  this  they  are  profuse  and 
wasteful.  Some  are  permitted,  and  even  encou- 
raged by  unwise  parents,  to  indulge  in  habits  of 
unnecessary  expense;  and  others,  stimulated  by  this 
example,  but  less  able  to  follow  it,  in  spite  of  every 
charge  that  can  be  given  them  to  the  contrary,  give 
way  to  those  habits,  and  recklessly  incur  debts 
which  prove  greatly  oppressive  to  their  parents,  and 
sometimes  plunge  them  into  serious  difliculties. 
This  latter  class  of  students  may  be  considered  as 
the  pests  of  all  literary  institutions;  and,  next  to  the 
grossly  immoral  and  profligate,  (with  whom,  in- 
deed, they  are  too  often  very  closely  connected)  the 
means  of  the  greatest  injury  to  their  fellow  students. 
When  a  student  has  much  money  in  his  pocket,  or 
feels  confident  that  he  can  rely  on  receiving  what 
he  wishes,  the  mischiefs  arising  from  this  source 
are  so  multiplied,  and  so  very  serious,  that  it  is 
wonderful  wealthy  parents  will  ever  allow  their 
children  to  be  laden  with  such  a  curse. 

The  mischiefs  growing  out  of  this  "plethora  of 
the  pocket"  to  the  students  themselves  who  possess 
it,  are  more  injurious  and  deplorable  than  any  one 
25 


990  EXPENSES. 

would  imagine  who  had  not  personally  watched 
the  process  of  such  things.  He  who  has  money  to 
spend,  will,  of  course,  have  objects  to  spend  it  upon; 
and  these  objects  will  certainly  be,  to  a  great  ex- 
tent, hurtful.  He  will  seldom  fail  to  indulge  him- 
self in  extra  eating  and  drinking,  which,  from  their 
unwholesome  nature,  as  well  as  from  their  leading 
to  excess  in  quantity,  will  frequently,  if  not  always 
do  more  or  less  harm  to  his  health.  To  load  the 
stomach  with  confectionary,  and  other  luxuries;  to 
eat  hot  suppers  over  and  above  all  ordinary  meals; 
to  indulge  in  every  rare  and  expensive  viand, 
adapted  to  stimulate  the  appetite,  and  eventually 
to  bring  on  a  morbid  state  of  the  system; — these 
are  the  habits  which  every  young  man  who  is  flush 
of  money  is  tempted  to  form;  and  that  their  influ- 
ence must  be  morbid  and  unhappy,  and  may  lead 
to  fatal  diseases,  no  one  who  reflects  on  the  sub- 
ject can  doubt.  But  these  evils  are  not  the  whole 
of  the  mischief  to  be  apprehended.  The  vices  of 
students  are  commonly  social.  In  partaking  of 
their  luxurious  meals  and  other  indulgences,  they 
are  fond  of  having  companions;  and  they  take 
pride  in  imparting  of  their  plenty  in  this  respect, 
gratuitously,  to  those  who  are  not  so  plentifully 
provided  with  the  means  of  indulgence.  This  ex- 
tends the  mischief  in  two  ways.  It  increases  the 
number  of  those  who  are  ensnared  and  injured; 
and  it  tempts  both  parties,  by  the  influence  of  the 


EXPENSES.  291 

gregarious  principle,  to  eat  and  drink  more  than 
either  would  alone. 

Nor  is  this  all.  Those  who  are  placed  under  no 
stint  with  regard  to  money,  are  tempted  to  be  dis- 
sipated; to  neglect  their  studies;  to  be  arrogant  and 
assuming;  to  indulge  themselves  in  various  irregu- 
lar practices,  unfriendly  to  study,  and  adapted  to 
betray  them  into  various  forms  of  disorderly  con- 
duct. All  experience  testifies  that  such  students 
are  usually  the  most  disorderly  in  the  institution; — 
very  seldom  even  tolerable  scholars; — and  so  fre- 
quently the  subjects  of  painful  and  disreputable 
discipline,  that  these  unhappy  results  may  be  con- 
fidently calculated  upon  the  moment  any  young 
man  appears  with  a  plentiful  supply  of  money  in 
his  pocket. 

You  have  reason  to  be  thankful,  my  dear  sons, 
that  the  comparative  poverty  of  your  father  cuts 
you  ofi"  from  these  temptations.  And  I  hope  you 
consider  this  circumstance  as  a  real  advantage 
rather  than  the  contrary.  Still  allow  me  to  put 
you  on  your  guard  against  some  temptations, 
which,  notwithstanding  this  restriction  on  your 
means,  may  sometimes  assail  you. 

1.  Never  be  ashamed  of  your  narrow  circum- 
stances. Never  affect  to  have  money  at  will.  Never 
allow  your  wealthy  fellow  students  to  imagine  that 
you  envy  them,  or  that  you  wish  to  emulate  their 
dress,  their  appearance,  and  their  liberality  of  ex- 


292  EXPENSES. 

penditure.  I  have  sometimes  felt  regret  and  mor- 
tification to  see  students,  who  in  intellectual  and 
moral  worth  stood  among  the  very  first  of  their 
classes,  who  struggled  to  appear  as  well  dressed 
as  their  wealthier  companions,  and  seemed  to  give 
way  to  a  painful  sense  of  inferiority  if  they  were 
unable  to  do  it.  There  is  a  littleness  in  this  of 
which  a  highminded  youth  ought  to  be  ashamed. 
Some  of  the  most  eminent  and  highly  honoured 
men  that  the  world  ever  saw,  commenced  their 
career  in  absolute  poverty,  and,  what  was  much 
to  their  credit,  were  never  ashamed  in  their  highest 
advancement,  to  recollect  and  advert  to  their  hum- 
ble origin.  Nay  more,  there  was  every  reason  to 
believe  that  their  poverty,  instead  of  being  a  dis- 
advantage, was  the  stimulus  which  urged  them  on  to 
diligence  in  study — to  the  highest  efforts  of  which 
they  were  capable,  and  to  ultimate  greatness.  It 
was,  under  God,  the  making  of  them. 

2.  Never  accept  of  the  gratuitous  offers  of  your 
moneyed  fellow  students  to  share  their  luxuries 
with  them,  or  to  partake,  at  their  expense,  in  any 
extra  food  or  drink,  or  in  any  extra  amusement, 
whether  lawful  or  not,  in  which  they  may  solicit 
you  to  accompany  them.  It  is  not  safe  to  associate 
much  with  such  students.  It  may  expose  you 
either  to  real  disorder,  or,  at  any  rate,  to  the  sus- 
picion of  the  faculty,  either  of  which  ought  to  be 
sacredly  avoided.     There  is  also  something  painful 


EXPENSES.  293 

to  me,  and  I  presume  to  every  ingenuous  mind,  in 
being  indebted  to  the  bounty  of  such  a  young  man 
for  any  enjoyment.  Very  few  such  young  men 
have  any  real  magnanimity;  and  they  may  imagine 
hereafter  that  you  are  their  debtors,  and  feel  as  if 
you  ought  to  recognise  this  debt,  and  be  ready  to 
return  or  acknowledge  it.  I  have  known  gratuities 
of  this  kind  to  be  cast  in  the  teeth  of  those  who 
consented  to  receive  them,  years  afterwards,  and 
to  inflict  not  a  little  mortification.  Never  accept 
such  gratuities.  Whenever  and  by  whomsoever 
offered,  decline  them  with  the  respectfulness  and 
urbanity  of  gentlemen,  but  with  inflexible  firmness. 

3,  Never  purchase  any  thing  that  is  not  indis- 
pensable, while  matters  absolutely  necessary  re- 
main unprovided  for.  What  would  you  think  of  a 
student  who  should  expend  twenty  or  thirty  dollars 
for  a  splendid  set  of  books,  which  he  could  easily 
do  without,  while  he  had  not  wherewithal  to  pay 
his  daily  board,  or  to  discharge  his  bill  for  neces- 
sary clothing?  Let  the  honest  principle,  of  giving 
to  every  one  and  to  every  claim  what  is  justly  due, 
and  making  a  corresponding  calculation  in  all  your 
expenditures,  at  all  times,  and  throughout  life, 
govern  you. 

4.  Never  think  of  obtaining  on  credit  what  you 
have  not  the  cash  to  pay  for  at  the  moment;  espe- 
cially never  consent  thus  to  obtain  that  which  is  a 
mere  luxury,  and  which,  of  course,  you  can  do 

25* 


294  EXPENSES. 

without.     I  have  personally  known  students,  wjio 
were  the  sons  of  parents  in  very  moderate  and 
even  straitened  circumstances,  who  had  so  little 
self-command,    that,    when    their    pockets    were 
empty,  they  would  obtain  on  credit  mere  luxuries, 
and  sometimes  those  of  a  very  expensive  kind;  and, 
perhaps,  at  the  end  of  a  session,  had  a  bill  brought 
in,  the  amount  of  which  astonished  themselves, 
and  greatly  incommoded  their  parents.     The  prac- 
tice of  purchasing  on  credit,  articles  which  are  not 
necessary,  is  one  which  the  wise,  with  one  consent, 
agree  in  denouncing.     It  not  only  leads  to  all  the 
evils  just  alluded  to,  but  also  to  another  no  less 
serious.     Those  who  purchase  on  credit  must  ex- 
pect to  pay  considerably  more  for  a  given  article 
than  those  who  pay  the  cash.     The  seller  who  dis- 
poses of  his  property  in  this  way  always  calculates 
on  losing  a  considerable  portion  of  the  whole  by 
delinquent  debtors.     To  meet  and  cover  this  loss, 
his  plan  is  to  add  a  certain  percentage  to  the  price 
of  the  article  which  he  sells  on  credit;  so  that  the 
pockets  of  his  punctual  debtors  are  taxed  to  help 
him  meet  the  loss  sustained  by  his  delinquent  ones. 
My  solemn  advice,  therefore,  would  be  that  you 
never,  especially  now  in  your  minority,  purchase 
the  smallest  article  on  credit.     If  it  be  a  mere 
luxury,  not  strictly  speaking  needed  for  your  health 
or  comfort,  you  ought  not  to  purchase  it  at  all, 
even  if  you  had  the  money  in  your  pocket.     But 


EXPENSES.  295 

even  if  it  be  a  necessary  of  life,  you  ought  to  post- 
pone the  purchase  of  it  as  long  as  you  can,  to  avoid 
the  payment  of  a  double  price  for  it. 

The  mischiefs  arising  from  the  students  of  our 
college  purchasing  on  credit,  and  suffering  bills 
against  them  to  appear  with  unexpected  accumula- 
tion at  the  end  of  each  session,  has  proved  so  cry- 
ing an  evil,  and  has  been  followed  with  so  many 
consequences  injurious  to  the  students  themselves, 
and  to  their  parents,  that  the  Trustees  of  the  college 
have  repeatedly  and  strongly  remonstrated  against 
the  practice,  and  have  even  gone  so  far  as  to  en- 
treat the  parents  of  their  pupils  not  to  pay  the  bills 
for  articles  obtained  by  minors,  on  credit,  contrary 
to  the  public  notice  and  injunction  of  the  college 
government.  Nay,  under  a  deep  impression  of 
the  importance  of  the  subject,  the  Legislature  of  the 
state  of  New  Jersey  has  passed  an  act,  forbidding 
any  person  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  college 
to  give  credit  to  any  of  its  students,  excepting 
for  articles  of  absolute  necessity,  and  making  all 
such  bills,  in  the  case  of  minors,  irrecoverable  by 
law. 

Many  a  young  man,  as  I  before  said,  whose  cir- 
cumstances were  straitened,  and  who  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  meet  the  expenses  of  his  education,  has 
been,  notwithstanding,  in  the  end,  among  the  most 
respected  and  beloved  of  his  class,  far  more  so  than 
the  most  wealthv.     And  this  will  never  fail  to  be 


)69S  EXPENSES'. 

the  case  with  any  student  in  whose  character  the 
following  circumstances  unite.  First,  if  he  be 
among  the  first  for  scholarship.  Secondly,  if  to  his 
accomplishments  in  this  respect  he  adds  the  dignity, 
polish,  and  amiableness  of  a  Christian  gentleman; 
and,  thirdly,  if  he  make  it  appear,  by  all  his  deport- 
ment and  habits,  that  he  knows  how  to  estimate  at 
its  real  value  that  tinsel  importance  which  wealth 
alone  can  give.  I  once  knew  a  young  man  who 
was  the  most  indigent  individual  in  his  class.  But 
he  was,  at  the  same  time,  the  best  scholar,  and  the 
most  amiable,  polished,  and  well-bred  gentleman 
of  the  whole  number.  The  consequence  may  easily 
be  imagined.  He  was  felt  and  acknowledged  to 
be  the  master  spirit  of  the  class.  All  did  him  ho- 
mage. 

You  see,  then,  how  important  it  is  that  all  orderly 
students,  and  all  well-wishers  to  the  college  should 
guard  with  sacred  care  against  every  thing  ap- 
proaching to  an  infringement  of  this  rule,  fortified 
by  a  civil  enactment.  It  is  not  only  their  duty  to 
avoid  every  thing  of  this  kind  on  their  own  account, 
but  also  for  the  sake  of  example,  and  to  co-operate 
in  carrying  into  effect  a  regulation  so  vitally  im- 
portant to  the  comfort  and  prosperity  of  the  col- 
lege. 

I  hope,  my  dear  sons,  that,  as  faithful  alumni oi 
the  institution  to  which  you  owe  allegiance,  and  as 
sincere  patriots,  you  wish  to  act  in  this  whole  mat- 


EXPENSES.  297 

ter  of  expense,  in  such  a  manner  as  shall  tend  to 
promote  on  a  large  scale,  the  welfare  of  your  Mma 
Mater,  and  the  great  interests  of  knowledge  and 
order  in  the  community.  It  is  easy  to  see  that 
every  thing  which  tends  to  increase  expense  in  the 
college  must  exert  an  unhappy  influence  in  a 
variety  of  ways.  Wealthy  parents  do  not  consider 
as  they  ought  that  when  their  sons  indulge  in  ex- 
pensive dress,  and  appear  able,  from  day  to  day,  to 
gratify  their  taste  by  larger  expenditure  than  the 
most  of  their  companions  in  study  can  afford,  they 
excite  uncomfortable  feelings  in  the  minds  of  some 
less  liberally  supplied  than  themselves;  they  tempt 
others,  who  have  not  the  means,  to  endeavour  to 
vie  with  them  in  appearance  and  expenditure;  they 
render  the  college  a  less  eligible  and  pleasant  place 
for  indigent  students;  and,  perhaps,  prevent  some 
of  this  character  from  ever  becoming  members  of 
the  institution.  In  this  way  it  is  that  by  every 
violation  of  wise  rules  and  principles,  the  great  in- 
terests of  knowledge  and  order  in  the  whole  com- 
munity are  seriously  injured. 

I  take  for  granted  that  some  of  these  considera- 
tions will  appear  altogether  too  refined  and  abstract 
to  have  any  weight  on  the  minds  of  many  of  your 
fellow  students.  Each  one  will  be  ready  to  say — 
"Am  I  my  brother's  keeper?  It  is  enough  for 
every  one  to  take  care  of  his  own  claims  and  in- 
terests."    Is  this  the  language  or  the  spirit  of  duti- 


S9S  EXPENSES. 

ful  sons,  when  weighing  the  claims  and  the  in- 
terests of  their  beloved  Jihna  Mater?  Is  this  the 
language  or  spirit  q{  SQ\yi\%  patriots,  who  consider 
it  as  a  privilege  and  an  honour,  as  well  as  a  duty, 
to  promote  the  great  cause  of  knowledge  and  virtue 
in  every  department  of  the  community?  I  can 
only  say,  if  there  be  any  who  feel  thus  and  speak 
thus,  they  manifest  a  narrowness  of  view,  and  a 
miserable  selfishness,  of  which  a  rational  and  ac- 
countable creature,  and  especially  one  in  a  course 
of  liberal  education,  and  training  for  the  duties  and 
responsibilities  of  public  life  ought  to  be  ashamed. 
The  situation  of  your  father,  of  course,  renders  it 
impossible  for  you  to  think  of  emulating  the  ex- 
pensive indulgences  of  some  of  your  companions 
in  study.  I  trust,  my  dear  sons,  this  circumstance 
will  not  give  rise  to  one  moment's  pain,  nor  lead 
you  to  feel  as  if  they  were,  on  this  account,  your 
superiors.  If  it  has  imposed  upon  you  some  salu- 
tary restraints;  if  it  has  excited  you  to  more  dili- 
gence in  study,  and  more  unwearied  efforts  to 
cultivate,  enlarge  and  strengthen  your  own  minds 
— you  have  rather  reason  to  rejoice  than  to  mourn 
that  your  father  is  not  a  rich  man.  Never  give 
way  to  the  thought  that  money  makes  the  man;  or 
that  mammon  can  be  weighed  in  the  scale  against 
scholarship  and  virtue.  What  though  you  wear 
less  expensive  garments,  and  have  less  money  to 
waste  on  injurious  indulgences  than  some  of  vonr 


EXPENSES.  299 

classmates?  If  you  stand  at  the  head  of  your  asso- 
ciates ill  literary  and  scientific  attainments,  and 
maintain  that  high  reputation  as  young  gentlemen 
of  integrity,  urbanity  and  honour  to  which  I  trust 
you  will  ever  aspire,  you  may  rely  on  it  that  the 
son  of  the  proudest  nabob,  if  he  have  no  other  dis- 
tinction than  that  which  his  wealth  gives  him,  will 
feel  himself  an  inferior  in  your  presence. 


300 


LETTER    XIX. 

ALMA  MATER. 

Jubemus  te  salverc,  Materl — Plautus. 

My  Dear  Sons, 

You  are  aware  that  the  technical  title  which  the 
dutiful  and  grateful  son  of  a  college  gives  to  his 
literary  parent  is  Jilma  Mater.  The  word  alma 
primarily  conveys  the  idea  of  cherishing  or  nou- 
rishing,h\xi  it  may  also  be  considered  as  signifying 
holy,  fair,  benign,  pure.  And  I  take  for  granted 
that  every  Alumnus  of  such  an  institution,  who 
has  acted  the  part  of  a  dutiful  son  while  under  her 
care,  and  who  has  received  from  her  that  faithful 
and  affectionate  training  which  is  never  withheld 
from  the  docile  and  the  reverential  pupil,  will  be 
ever  ready  to  say  of  his  literary  parent,  with  all  the 
delightful  emotions  of  filial  respect  and  gratitude — 
"t^/ma  Mater!  Sit  semper  florens, — semper  hono- 
ratissima, — semper  beata!" 

It  is  a  maxim  in  common  life,  that  when  any 
young  man  manifests  no  respect  for  his  mother,  the 


ALMA  MATER.  301 

conclusion  is  irresistible; — either  that  she  is  un- 
worthy, or  that  he  is  a  brute.  If  this  is  always  the 
case  with  a  mother  according  to  the  flesh,  the 
maxim  holds,  with  equal  uniformity,  and  with 
equal  force,  in  regard  to  a  literary  parent.  When- 
ever yon  meet  with  an  alumnus  of  a  college,  who 
manifests  no  affection,  no  respect  for  the  institution 
in  which  he  has  been  trained,  you  may  generally 
take  for  granted,  without  inquiring  further,  that  he 
is  an  unworthy  son,  who,  during  his  connection 
with  her,  acted  so  undutiful  a  part  as  to  embitter 
all  his  own  recollections  of  that  connection;  and  to 
leave  no  impression  on  her  muid  which  she  can 
remember  but  with  pain. 

The  duties  which  a  faithful  son  owes  to  a  wor- 
thy mother  are  so  many,  and  at  the  same  time  so 
obvious,  that  it  may  seem  unnecessary  to  recount 
them.  Yet  as  the  duties  due  to  literal  mothers,  plain 
and  indubitable  as  they  are,  are  too  often  forgotten 
and  neglected  by  unworthy  children  according  to 
the  flesh;  so  the  obligations  by  which  educated 
young  men  are  bound  to  their  literary  mothers  are 
so  seldom  duly  recognised  or  faithfully  discharged, 
that  a  brief  allusion  to  some  of  them  is  by  no  means 
a  superfluous  task. 

1.  The  first  duty  which  every  alumnus  of  a  col- 
lege owes  to  his  Mma  Mater  is  to  recognise  his 
obligation  to  her,  and  to  cherish  those  sentiments 
of  respect,  veneration  and  gratitude  to  which  she  is 
26 


302  ALMA  MATER. 

entitled  at  his  hands.  This  obHgation  is  real  and 
deep,  and  ought  ever  to  be  remembered  and  ac- 
knowledged. Every  young  man  who  has  passed, 
or  is  passing  through  a  course  of  study  in  a  literary 
institution;  who  has  been  faithfully  instructed,  and 
made  the  subject  of  wholesome  parental  discipline, 
is  deeply  indebted  to  that  institution,  and  ought  to 
cherish  a  strong  and  permanent  impression  of  his 
debt.  What  though  he  may  be  able  to  see  faults 
in  his  literary  mother?  What  though  some  parts 
of  her  discipline  may  have  been  painful  to  him? 
Yet  his  obligation  is  not  thereby  destroyed,  or 
even  impaired.  The  probability  is  that  he,  and  not 
the  college,  was  to  blame  for  every  penalty  that  fell 
upon  him,  for  every  frown  which  she  manifested 
toward  him;  nay  that  every  act  of  severity  which 
gave  him  temporary  pain,  and  of  which  he  may 
be  sometimes  ready  to  make  complaint,  was  de- 
manded by  fidelity  to  his  best  interest,  and,  instead 
of  diminishing,  does  but  increase  his  obligation 

I  hope,  then,  my  dear  sons,  that,  wherever  you 
may  sojourn  or  settle  in  future  life,  in  the  exercise 
of  a  true  filial  spirit,  you  will  cherish  a  strong  and 
lively  sense  of  obligation  to  yovxx  Alma  Mater. 
Whatever  may  be  said  of  her  defects,  she  has  been 
a  faithful  mother  to  you.  For  every  frown  you 
may  have  received  from  her,  for  every  rod  of 
correction  she  may  have  inflicted  upon  you,  in- 
stead of  being  offended,  you  ought  to  feel  more 


ALMA  MATER.  303 

deeply  her  debtors.  And  this  debt,  it  will  be 
equally  pleasant  to  her,  and  honourable  to  your- 
selves ever  to  bear  in  mind,  and  gratefully  to  ac- 
knowledge as  long  as  you  live.  Whenever  I  find 
a  student  greatly  attached  to  the  college  in  which 
he  is  pm'sning  his  studies,  or,  after  he  has  left  it, 
cherishing  a  strong  filial  spirit  toward  it,  I  invo- 
luntarily adopt  conclusions  favourable  to  his  cha- 
racter as  a  son.  I  take  for  granted  that  he  has 
been  a  dutiful,  diligent  and  orderly  student;  that 
his  connection  with  his  Jilma  Mater  was  credit- 
able to  himself,  as  well  as  pleasant  to  her;  and  that 
every  word  he  utters  in  her  favour  ought  to  be 
considered  as  redounding  to  his  own  honour. 

2.  If  you  are  thus  indebted  to  your  Ahna  Mater, 
ought  you  not  to  abhor  the  thought  of  destroying 
her  property,  or  doing  any  thing  that  can.  pos- 
sibly tend  to  her  injury^  The  most  wonderful  in- 
fatuation concerning  this  point  seems  to  possess  the 
minds  of  many  members  of  our  colleges.  When 
they  become  dissatisfied  on  any  account,  with  their 
instructors,  one  of  the  first  things  they  think  of  is 
to  wreak  their  vengeance  on  some  portion  of  the 
college  property;  to  destroy  or  deface  some  part  of 
the  public  edifices,  or  their  furniture.  This,  they 
imagine,  will  most  effectually  spite  and  mortify  the 
faculty,  the  object  of  their  resentment.  But  there 
never  was  a  more  miserable  misapprehension,  or  a 
more  fiend-like,  and  malignant  spirit.     The  pro- 


304  ALMA  MATER. 

perty  of  the  institution  is  all  vested  in  the  board  of 
trustees,  the  legal  curators  of  all  her  interests.  Of 
course,  when  injury  is  done  to  any  of  these  inte- 
rests, it  falls,  not  on  the  faculty,  but  on  the  college; 
impairing  her  strength;  diminishing  her  power  of 
doing  good;  and,  of  course,  rendering  her,  so  far 
as  the  injury  goes,  less  of  a  blessing  to  the  com- 
munity. 

What  would  be  thought  of  a  young  man,  who, 
when  his  literal  mother,  after  a  long  course  of 
labour  and  toil  for  his  benefit,  had  reproved  him 
for  some  gross  fault,  should  wreak  his  vengeance 
on  her  dwelling  and  furniture,  destroying  or  de- 
facing every  thing  within  his  reach;  thus  doing  all 
in  his  power  to  vex  and  injure  her  whom  he  was 
bound  upon  every  principle  to  honour  and  cherish? 
He  would  be  pronounced  an  ungrateful,  infatuated 
demon,  setting  at  defiance,  at  once,  every  dictate 
of  reason,  duty,  self-interest,  and  self-respect,  for 
the  gratification  of  a  blind  and  brutal  passion. 

Equally  infatuated  and  demon-like  is  that  stu- 
dent, who,  when  by  his  own  folly  and  wickedness 
he  has  subjected  himself  to  merited  and  most 
righteous  discipline,  undertakes  to  resent  it,  and  to 
give  expression  to  his  anger,  not  by  assailing  the 
persons  of  those  who  have  offended  him,  which  he 
knows  would  subject  him  to  still  heavier  discipline; 
but  by  attacking  the  property  of  the  institution;  by 


ALMA  MATER.  305 

subjecting  to  serious  loss  those  from  whom  he  has 
never  received  any  thing  but  benefits. 

Still  less  apology  than  even  for  these,  can  be 
made  for  those  who,  without  any  provocation,  are 
in  the  habit,  from  mere  wantonness,  of  cutting  and 
otherwise  defacing  the  benches,  doors,  window- 
frames,  fences,  &c.,  of  the  college,  rendering  them 
odious  in  their  appearance,  and,  in  many  cases, 
altogether  unfit  for  use.  Is  this  the  conduct  which 
becomes  dutiful  children,  who  know  that  lo  injure 
their  mother  is  to  injure  themselves?  Ever  re- 
member, my  dear  sons,  not  only  that  the  property 
of  the  college  is  not  yours  but  hers,  and,  of  course, 
that  you  have  no  right  to  injure  it  in  the  least  de- 
gree; but  that  your  right  to  injure  it  is  even  less  than 
if  you  were  its  rightful  owner.  If  it  were  your 
otvn,you  might,  indeed,  do  as  you  pleased  with  it; 
but  as  it  is  noi  your  own,  you  ought  to  exercise  a 
far  more  scrupulous  care  not  to  injure  it  than  if  it 
were.  But  even  more  than  this;  it  belongs  to  a 
moral  parent,  to  whom  you  are  deeply  indebted, 
and  whom  to  injure  is  even  more  unreasonable 
and  more  criminal  than  if  you  stood  to  her  in  no 
such  relation. 

3.  Another  duty  which  you  now  owe,  and  will 
ever  owe  to  your  Jllma  Mater,  is  to  be  jealous, 
and  scrupulously  careful  of  her  good  name  and 
honour.  If  the  sons  of  a  great  literary  parent  are 
not  jealous  of  her  reputation,  and  do  not  stand 
26* 


306  ALMA  MATER. 

forth  as  the  advocates  of  her  fame,  who  can  be 
expected  to  do  it?  Let  no  alumnus  say  of  his 
tdlma  Mater  that  he  cannot  conscientiously  praise 
her;  that  she  is  far  from  being  what  he  could  wish. 
To  whom  does  it  belong  to  try  to  improve  her  con- 
dition, and  raise  her  character,  but  to  her  sons?  To 
withhold  their  praise,  when  thej''  have  not  done  all 
in  their  power  to  render  her  worthy  of  it,  is  as 
ignoble  as  it  is  unjust.  This  consideration  leads 
me  to  say, 

4.  That  you  are  bound  to  study  and  endea- 
vour, to  the  end  of  life,  to  do  all  in  your  power 
to  elevate,  strengthen,  enrich  and  adorn  your  Jihna 
Mater  in  all  her  interests.  In  this  respect  it  is 
certain  that  the  habits  of  our  ancestors  were  far 
more  favourable  to  literature  than  those  of  the 
present  day.  Several  centuries  ago,  it  was  com- 
mon for  eminent  and  wealthy  men  in  the  old 
world  to  exercise  splendid  munificence  toward  the 
seminaries  of  learning  in  which  they  were  trained, 
or  which  became,  on  any  ground,  objects  of  their 
favour.  They  erected  large  and  splendid  edifices 
for  libraries  and  halls;  gave  ample  endowments 
for  their  support;  founded  professorships  and  scho- 
larships; established  bursaries  and  premiums  for 
the  encouragement  of  pupils;  and  in  various  ways 
contributed  to  extend,  strengthen  and  adorn  the 
nurseries  of  knowledge.  Almost  all  the  principal 
buildings,  and  most  sumptuous  foundations  in  the 


ALMA  MATER.  307 

universities  of  the  old  world,  and  especially  of 
Great  Britain,  were  established,  not  by  the  univer- 
sities themselves,  out  of  their  own  funds,  but  by 
munificent  individuals,  many  of  whom  have  by 
this  laudable  liberality  transmitted  their  names 
with  honour  to  posterity.  Nor  has  this  praise- 
worthy practice  been  unknown  in  our  own  coun- 
try. The  friends  of  Harvard  University  in  Massa- 
chusetts, have  set  the  noblest  example  of  this  kind 
hitherto  presented  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  The 
names  of  Harvard,  and  Hollis,  and  Hancock,  and 
Hersey,  and  Erving,  to  say  nothing  of  several  still 
more  munificent  later  patrons,  are  all  worthy  of 
honourable  commemoration.  It  is  to  be  lamented 
that  this  species  of  liberality  has  been,  in  a  great 
measure,  confined  to  the  single  state  of  Massachu- 
setts. For  although  a  few  cases  have  occurred, 
both  in  the  West  and  the  South,  of  large  endow- 
ments to  literary  institutions,  yet  they  have  been 
indeed  "few  and  far  between;"  whereas  they  have 
occurred  in  the  state  just  mentioned  with  a  re- 
markable frequency,  which  indicated  a  state  of 
public  sentiment  altogether  peculiar.  Besides  the 
benefactors  to  Harvard  University  already  men- 
tioned, the  names  of  Bartlet,  and  No^^ris,  and 
Phillips,  and  Farrar,  will  remind  you  of  men 
who,  by  their  princely  munificence,  have  erected 
monuments  of  their  liberahty  which  will  be  long 
remembered  with  honour. 


308  ALMA  MATER. 

I  am  aware,  my  dear  sons,  that  you  are  never 
likely  to  be  able  to  do  much  in  the  way  of  endow- 
ments in  aid  of  your  Mma  Mater.  But  if  it  should 
please  God  to  prosper  you  in  your  worldly  circum- 
stances, you  may  possibly  do  something  to  testify 
your  good  will  and  filial  regard.  And  I  charge 
you,  if  you  should  ever  be  able,  to  give  her,  either 
during  your  lives,  or  at  your  decease,  some  me- 
morial of  your  gratitude  and  attachment.  If  you 
can  do  no  more,  you  can  probably  engage  some 
wealthy  acquaintances,  who  have  few  or  no  chil- 
dren, in  making  a  testamentary  disposition  of  their 
property,  to  make  your  college,  at  least  in  part, 
their  legatee.  And  perhaps  you  yourselves,  with- 
out doing  wrong  to  any  survivor,  may  leave  to  her, 
if  it  be  but  a  hundred  or  two  dollars,  as  an  humble 
testimonial  of  grateful  regard.  If  even  this  were 
done  by  all  her  alumni  who  are  able  to  afford  it,  the 
amount  would,  in  a  few  years,  invest  her  with  a 
degree  of  enlargement  and  strength  greatly  condu- 
cive to  her  comfort  and  usefulness. 

No  longer  ago  than  last  year  an  alumnus  of  the 
College  of  New  Jersey,  who  was  graduated  with  the 
class  of  1776,  and  had  filled  a  number  of  elevated 
stations  in  society— left  in  his  last  will,  as  "a  testi- 
mony of  attachment  to  his  venerated  Mma  Ma- 
ter^'' one  hundred  volumes  of  books,  to  be  selected 
from  his  library  by  a  friend  whom  he  named,  and 
added  to  the  library  of  the  college.     This  was  ac- 


ALMA  MATER.  309 

cordingly  done;  and  the  legacy  was  received  and 
acknowledged  with  marked  pleasure  by  the  board 
of  trustees.  Why  is  not  something  of  this  kind 
done  more  frequently?  If  every  son  of  the  college, 
who  has  it  in  his  power  were  to  do  likewise,  (and 
some  could,  without  inconvenience,  do  much  more,) 
the  library  of  our  college  would,  in  a  few  years, 
become  enlarged  to  a  degree  greatly  gratifying  to 
all  her  friends. 

The  truth  is,  if  all  the  friends  of  our  college  were 
cordially  desirous,  and  really  on  the  watch,  to  pro- 
mote her  welfare,  they  might,  with  very  little 
effort,  accomplish  for  her  an  amount  of  benefit  be- 
yond calculation.  One,  for  example,  may  send  to 
her  library,  from  his  own  collection,  a  set  of  books, 
or  a  single  volume  of  rare  or  curious  character. 
A  second,  who,  in  the  course  of  his  travels,  meets 
with  one  or  more  volumes  of  great  rarity  or  value, 
may  easily  prevail  on  the  owner  to  present  them 
to  the  college.  A  third,  at  an  expense  of  seven  or 
eight  hundred  dollars,  may  establish  a  fund  which 
shall  produce  forty  or  fifty  dollars  annually  to  be 
applied  as  a  premium  for  ever,  and  paid  to  the  best 
classical  or  mathematical  scholar  in  each  class  that 
is  graduated.  A  fourth,  who  cannot  do  it  him- 
self, may  prevail  on  some  acquaintance  of  larger 
means,  to  erect  a  spacious  fire-proof  library,  which 
has  long  been  greatly  wanted;    or  a  convenient, 


310  ALMA  MATER. 

ornamental  chapel,  which  is  equally  needed,  and 
which  might  bear  the  name  of  the  donor  for  ever. 

A  fifth,  who  is  fond  of  some  particular  science 
taught  in  the  institution,  may  be  willing  to  make  a 
large  addition  to  the  chemical  apparatus,  or  to  pre- 
sent a  first-rate  telescope,  to  aid  in  the  study  of 
Astronomy.  Why — 0  why  is  it  that  the  public 
spirit,  the  zeal  for  the  promotion  of  knowledge 
which  operated  so  strongly  in  the  minds  of  our 
fathers,  and  produced  such  honourable  results, 
hav^e  so  far  deserted  our  country,  or  at  any  rate 
these  middle  states?  I  hope,  my  dear  sons,  poor 
as  you  are,  you  will  do  all  in  your  power  to  revive 
and  extend  them,  and  try  to  stimulate  every  high- 
minded  alumnus  to  become  a  benefactor,  in  some 
way,  to  his  beloved  literary  mother. 

The  fact  is,  every  alumnus  of  a  college  who 
travels  into  foreign  countries,  might,  not  only  with- 
out sacrifice,  but  with  cordial  gratification  to  his 
honourable  feelings,  pick  up  in  a  hundred  places, 
and  bring  home  with  him,  specimens  of  Natural 
History,  models  of  Engines  and  Edifices,  Casts, 
Statues,  Paintings,  Minerals,  Coins,  Manuscripts, 
&c.  &c,  which  might  be  deposited  on  her  shelves, 
to  the  great  increase  of  her  reputation,  and  to  the 
enlargement  of  her  means  of  promoting  the  im- 
provement of  her  pupils. 


311 


LETTER   XX. 

PARENTS. 

"  Indulgenlia  inepla  Parenlum."— Anon. 

My  Dear  Sons, 

You  may  feel  some  surprise  that  a  letter  with 
such  a  title  should  be  addressed  to  you.  But  1 
should  consider  this  manual  as  essentially  defective 
were  it  not  to  contain  some  notice  of  the  bearing 
of  PARENTAL  INFLUENCE  ou  the  character  aiid  coH- 
duct,  of  many  young  men  in  college.  Your  own 
reflections  will  convince  you  that  this  influence  is 
not  small,  and  that  it  is  often  far  from  being  happy. 
It  is  my  wish,  therefore,  to  take  this  indirect  me- 
thod of  reaching  the  consciences  and  the  hearts  of 
those  parents  who,  perhaps,  do  more  to  lead  their 
sons  astray  than  they  themselves  ever  imagined; 
and  whose  mischievous  influence  none  but  them- 
selves can  ever  fully  correct.  For  my  part,  I  be- 
lieve that,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  the  bad  conduct 
of  the  young  is  referable  to  their  parents. 

And  I  begin  by  remarking,  that  many  parents 


313  PARENTS. 

are  so  negligent  or  so  unskilful  in  the  original  train- 
ing of  their  children, — if  training  it  may  be  called, 
— that  they  can  hardly  fail  to  become  disorderly 
members  of  society,  and  to  prove  a  perfect  nuisance 
wherever  they  go.  Where  children  are  suffered 
to  grow  up  without  restraint;  in  the  indulgence  of 
every  wild  freak,  and  wayward  temper;  nay  where 
they  are  permitted  to  be  the  governors  of  their 
parents,  rather  than  compelled  to  submit  to  their 
authority,  what  can  be  expected  of  such  children, 
as  ihey  advance  in  age  and  in  stature,  but  self-will, 
turbulence,  and  every  species  of  revolting  insubor- 
dination? Would  it  not  be  something  like  a  miracle, 
if  children  thus  abandoned  to  their  own  corrupt 
inclinations,  should  prove  otherwise  than  disorderly 
and  troublesome  whenever  they  attempted  to  min- 
gle with  decent  people?  The  very  element  of  youth 
thus  brought  up,  may  be  expected  to  be  insubor- 
dination, profaneness,  self-indulgence  in  every  form, 
forgetfulness  of  truth,  and  a  disregard  to  the  rights 
and  the  comfort  of  others. 

Many  such  young  men  are  sent  to  college,  and 
there  they  expect  to  govern,  as  they  had  done  at 
home.  There,  when  not  permitted  to  have  their 
own  way  in  every  thing,  and  even  to  invade  the 
rights  of  others  with  impunity,  they  think  them- 
selves hardly  and  oppressively  treated.  Nor  is  a 
mistake  on  this  subject  theirs  alone.  Their  parents 
are  apt  to  participate  in  it.     And,  therefore,  when 


PARENTS.  313 

they  hear  that  their  sons  have  drawn  upon  them- 
selves the  discipline  of  the  college,  or  been  sent 
away  from  it,  they  are  filled  with  surprise,  and 
conclude  that  the  faculty  must,  of  course,  be  to 
blame.  Strange  infatuation!  Surely  the  bhndness 
of  parental  partiality  is  beyond  all  bounds!  When 
children  are  not  taught  at  home  to  honour  and  obey 
their  parents;  to  love  and  observe  domestic  order; 
to  regard  the  truth;  to  avoid  profane  language;  to 
pay  respect  to  the  feelings  of  others,  what  can  be 
expected  when  they  leave  home,  and  are,  of  course, 
removed  from  the  eye  of  their  immediate  connec- 
tions? Can  there  be  any  rational  hope  that  they 
will  be  found  comfortable  or  respectable  members 
of  any  literary  institution  to  which  they  may  be 
sent?  As  well  might  we  expect  to  "  gather  grapes 
of  thorns,  or  figs  of  thistles."  It  will  be  well,  in- 
deed, if  those  who  have  been  taught  and  trained  in 
the  best  manner,  shall  carry  with  them  to  the  aca- 
demy and  the  college,  the  sentiments  and  habits 
which  have  been  inculcated  upon  them.  But  where 
the  parental  mansion  has  never  resounded  with  the 
voice  of  prayer  and  praise;  where  no  father's  or 
mother's  affection  has  evor  impressed  upon  their 
minds  the  duty  of  obedience  to  the  laws  under 
which  they  are  placed;  of  reverence  for  God,  for 
the  Bible,  for  the  Lord's  day,  and  for  every  thing 
sacred;  and  of  benevolent  regard  to  the  feelings  of 
others,  we  cannot  reasonably  hope  for  any  thing, 
27 


314  PARENTS. 

from  such  young  people,  but  insubordination  and 
every  evil  work.  If  tlie  result  be  different,  every 
one  who  contemplates  the  circumstance,  regards  it 
as  a  matter  of  wonder  and  congratulation. 

We  are  told  of  an  ancient  Grecian  sage,  that, 
when  he  saw  any  young  person  behaving  ill  in  the 
street,  or  in  any  public  place,  he  immediately  went 
to  the  house  of  his  parents,  and  corrected  them,  as 
the  probable  cause  of  their  son's  delinquency.  The 
conclusion  was  wise,  and  the  course  taken  rational. 
When  I  see  a  young  man  noisy,  insolent,  swag- 
gering,,profane,  coarse  in  his  manners,  and  disre- 
spectful to  his  superiors — I  pity  him; — I  spontane- 
ously say,  within  myself — "  poor  lad!  he  has  had  a 
wretched  bringing  up;  he  knows  no  better;"  his 
parents  have  either  known  no  better  themselves,  or 
they  have  had  neither  the  principle  nor  the  skill 
to  lead  him  in  the  right  way;  and  hence  he  has 
grown  up,  "  like  a  wild  ass's  colt."  I  verily  be- 
lieve that  nine-tenths  of  all  the  disobedience  to  law, 
and  all  the  consequent  disorders  in  colleges  are  to 
be  traced  to  the  unhappy  delinquencies  of  parents; 
and  that  no  effectual  cure  of  the  evil  can  be  ex- 
pected, but  through  the  medium  of  parental  refor- 
mation. Oh,  if  fathers  and  mothers — even  the 
most  worldly  of  them — had  a  just  sense  of  what 
their  sons  need  in  going  forth  to  complete  their 
education;  if  they  made  a  just  estimate  of  what 
true  politeness  is — that  it  does  not  consist  in  fine 


PARENTS.  315 

clothes — in  graceful  movements,  or  in  a  haughty 
strut  and  air;  but  in  a  deportment  at  once  respect- 
ful, benevolent,  and  adapted  to  make  all  around  us 
happy; — what  a  different  aspect  would  all  our 
social  circles,  and  all  our  literary  institutions  pre- 
sent! Parents  certainly  impose  a  heavy  and  most 
unreasonable  task  on  college  officers,  when  they 
expect  them  to  make  scholat^s  send  gentlemen  of  stu- 
pid asses,  headstrong  rebels,  and  miserable  boors, 
whom  they  found  it  impossible  either  to  instruct  or 
govern  at  home. 

But  this  is  not  the  whole  of  the  evil  which  flows 
from  parental  delinquency.  Parents  not  only  send 
to  college  young  men  without  any  of  the  qualities 
which  fit  them  to  be  either  wholesome  or  comfort- 
able members  of  a  literary  institution;  without 
either  the  decorum  or  the  docility  which  prepare 
them  to  be  successful  or  even  tolerable  students; 
but  they  too  often  set  themselves  against  the  efforts 
of  the  faculty,  by  faithful  instruction  and  discipline, 
to  correct  the  faults  and  better  the  character  of  their 
children.  It  would  be  distressing  to  recount  the 
instances,  in  which  parents  have  become  grievously 
offended  at  measures  of  the  most  wise  and  indis- 
pensable kind  to  promote  the  welfare  of  their  sons. 
I  have  known  many  cases  in  which,  instead  of  feel- 
ing grateful  to  the  authority  of  college, for  frowning 
on  the  gross  disorders  of  their  sons,  and  inflicting 
the  lightest  discipline  that  could  be  thought  of  for 


316  PARENTS. 

their  offences,  they  have  taken  the  part  of  their 
sons  against  the  authority;  considered  them  as 
hardly  dealt  with;  and  encouraged  them  to  resist 
the  discipUne  to  which  they  were  subjected.  The 
injury  done  to  young  men  by  this  conduct  on  the 
part  of  their  parents  cannot  be  calculated.  How 
is  it  possible  to  conduct  discipline  with  success, 
when  it  is  thus  resisted  and  reviled  by  those  who 
ought  zealously  to  sustain  it?  What  encourage- 
ment have  the  officers  of  such  institutions  to  labour 
and  toil  for  the  beneJfit  of  youth,  when  those  who 
ought  to  be  most  grateful  to  them  for  their  painful 
efforts,  turn  against  them,  and  strengthen  the  hands 
of  their  rebellious  children? 

I  must  say,  my  dear  sons,  that,  in  the  course  of 
a  long  life,  1  tiave  no  recollection  of  having  ever 
known  an  instance  in  which  a  member  of  college 
appeared  to  me  to  have  boen  visited  with  more 
severe  discipline  than  he  deserved.  My  impres- 
sion is,  that,  where  there  is  an  error  in  regard  to 
this  matter,  it  is  almost  always  the  other  way. 
And,  therefore,  I  give  you  fair  warning  before- 
hand, that  if  (what  I  hope  will  never  happen)  you 
should  fall  under  the  lash  of  college  authority,  you 
must  not  expect  me  to  interpose  and  rescue  you 
from  it.  I  shall  take  for  granted,  anterior  to  all 
inquiry  on  the  subject,  that  you  richly  deserve  all 
you  get  and  more. 

An  example  of  noble  bearing  on  this  subject 


PARENTS.  317 

once  occurred  in  Princeton,  which  I  cannot  forbear 
to  relate,  as  affording  a  specimen  of  what  ought 
much  more  frequently  to  be  exhibited  than  we  find 

to  be  the  case.    General  C ,  a  highly  respectable 

inhabitant  of  a  neighbouring  city,  who  had  himself 
had  two  sons  educated  in  our  college,  and  who 
was,  therefore,  well  acquainted  with  the  institution, 
happened,  some  years  ago,  to  be  passing  through 
Princeton  on  the  very  day  in  which  two  students 
of  the  college  had  been  suspended  and  ordered  to 
go  home  on  account  of  their  disorderly  conduct. 
They  came  into  the  hotel,  where  the  General  had 
stopped  to  refresh  himself,  and  were  complaining 
of  the  treatment  which  they  had  received  from  the 
faculty  of  the  college,  in  a  loud  manner,  and  with 
much  foul  language.  He,  at  first,  was  silent;  but 
their  vehement  complaints  being  continued,  and 
after  a  while  appearing  to  be  partly  addressed  to 
himself — he  looked  at  them  with  a  stern  counte- 
nance, and  said — "  Young  men,  I  know  nothing  of 
you  or  your  case:  but  I  have  long  known  the 
Faculty  of  New  Jersey  College,  and  know  them  to 
be  scholars  and  gentlemen.  I  am  sure,  from  your 
present  behaviour,  they  are  in  the  right,  and  you 
in  the  wrong;  and,  if  you  were  my  sons,  I  would 
drive  you  back,  with  a  good  cowskin,  to  the  pre- 
sence of  the  Faculty,  and  compel  you  to  ask  their 
pardon  on  your  knees."  Though  the  culprits  did 
not  know  him,  yet  his  age,  his  commanding  figure, 
27* 


318  PARENTS. 

and  his  air  of  superiority  prevented  tlieir  giving 
way  to  resentment.  But  it  is  hardly  necessary  to 
say,  that  they  shmk  out  of  the  apartment  abashed 
and  silent. 

It  is  earnestly  to  be  wished,  that  pnbUc  sentiment 
generally,  and  especially  the  sentiments  and  con- 
duct of  the  leading  members  of  society,  might 
always  be  found  speaking  the  same  language,  and 
taking  the  part  of  rightful  authority,  against  juve- 
nile insubordination  and  insolence.  But,  alas!  this 
is  so  far  from  being  the  case  that,  perhaps,  no  com- 
plaint is  better  founded  than  that  which  mourns 
over  the  prevalence  of  an  opposite  course. 

The  following  remarks  by  the  venerable  Bishop 
Meade,  extracted  from  a  publication  from  his  pen 
noticed  in  a  former  letter,  are  worthy  of  being  so- 
lemnly regarded  by  every  parent.  "  On  this  subject, 
let  me  say  one  word  to  parents,  in  behalf  of  the 
schools  and  colleges  in  our  land.  Heavy,  indeed, 
are  the  complaints  of  teachers  and  professors  against 
you  in  this  respect.  I  hear  them  wherever  I  go.  You 
are  considered  as  the  great  obstacles  to  the  right 
government  of  youth  in  our  literary  institutions  of 
every  grade.  Those  who  have  charge  of  your 
children  declare,  that  you  withhold  your  support 
from  them  in  the  most  trying  emergency;  that  your 
blind  partiality  to  your  sons  leads  you  to  receive 
any  statement  they  may  make,  or  your  false  views 
of  disciphne  lead  you  to   palliate,  if  you  do  not 


PARENTS.  319 

justify  conduct  which  is  perfectly  inadmissible  in 
any  well  ordered  institution.  They  declare,  that  it 
seldom  happens  that  a  youth  is  dismissed,  without 
finding  in  the  parent  one  to  justify  him,  and  con- 
demn them.^^ 

There  is  yet  another  way  in  which  parents  are 
found  not  only  to  injure  their  sons  in  college,  but 
also  to  inflict  a  serious  injury  on  the  character  and 
all  the  best  interests  of  the  institution  with  which 
they  are  connected.     I  mean  by  supplying  them 
profusely  with  money,  from  time  to  time,  and  thus 
enabling  them  to  gratify  their  appetites,  and  tempt- 
ing them  to  indulge  in  freaks  of  wild  disorder,  and 
of  mischievous  expenditure.     This  infatuation  on 
the  part  of  parents,  has  proved  a  source  of  wider 
and  more  irreparable  mischief  than  I  could  easily 
detail.     I  am  very  sure  that  if  parents  who  have 
either  any  reflection  or  any  principle,  could  be  made 
to  understand  how  deeply  such  profusion  on  their 
part  is  adapted  to  injure  their  sons,  and  to  injure 
the  college,  they  would  no  more  think  of  indulging 
it,  than  they  would  the  thought  of  sending  to  their 
beloved  children,  every  month,  the  most  virulent 
poison  to  be  mingled  with  their  daily  food. 

It  is  deeply  to  be  deplored  that  there  are,  around 
our  colleges,  so  many  persons  ready  to  be  meanly 
and  criminally  purveyors  to  the  appetites  of  the 
students;  who,  in  defiance  of  all  the  laws  of  the 
state,  and  of  the  authority  of  the  institutions  them- 


320  PARENTS. 

selves;  nay,  in  defiance  of  all  the  dictates  of  their 
own  ultimate  interest,  spread  snares  for  their  feet, 
and  lead  them  on,  in  many  cases,  to  the  breaking 
up  of  all  their  sober  habits,  and  ultimately  to  their 
eternal  destruction.  But  the  most  astonishing  and. 
humbling  fact  of  all  is,  that  parents — who  have 
the  deepest  interest  in  the  welfare  of  their  children, 
and  who  might  be  expected  to  feel  for  the  well- 
being  of  the  children  of  others — cannot  be  per- 
suaded to  frown  on  those  unprincipled  conspira- 
tors against  youth,  and  to  try  and  make  them 
feel,  in  the  only  way  in  which  they  seem  capable 
of  feeling — I  mean  in  their  pockets — that  they 
are  engaged  in  a  nefarious  traffic  which  cannot 
ultimately  profit  them. 


3S1 


LETTER    XXI. 

VACATIONS. 

Ne  niiJii  olium  quidem  fuit  unqanm  otiosum. — Cicero. 
Simul  et  juciinda  et  idonea  vitje. — Anon. 

My  Dear  Sons, 

I  know  of  few  things  more  adapted  to  draw  a 
distinct  and  visible  line  between  a  wise  student  and 
a  foolish  one  than  the  occurrence  of  a  vacation.  To 
the  latter,  who  is  too  commonly  a  mere  terrse 
filius — who  has  no  love  to  knowledge — who  only 
consented  to  become  a  member  of  a  literary  insti- 
tution from  mere  boyish  vanity,  or  to  comply  with 
the  wishes  of  his  parents;  who  desires  to  enjoy  the 
name  of  a  student,  without  his  toil  or  his  attain- 
ments;— to  him  the  occurrence  of  a  vacation  is  the 
most  welcome  of  all  events.  He  is  delighted  to 
escape  from  study.  He  is  no  less  gratified,  per- 
[laps,  to  escape  from  the  control  and  decorum 
which  the  supervision  of  the  faculty  imposes  upon 
him,  and  rejoices  in  the  prospect  of  being  able  to 


322  VACATIONS. 

give  himself  up,  for  five  or  six  weeks,  to  every 
kind  of  dissipation  that  his  heart  may  desire. 

Very  different  from  these  are  the  feehngs  with 
which  a  wise  and  exemplary  student  contemplates 
the  approach  of  a  recess  from  study.  He  rejoices 
in  it,  indeed,  but  not  as  a  period  of  escape  from 
painful  restraint,  for  he  feels  none: — not  as  a  sea- 
son of  relief  from  study;  for  he  loves  knowledge, 
and  considers  it  as  a  privilege  to  receive  it  from  the 
hands  of  his  regular  instructors.  He  looks  forward 
to  such  an  event,  however,  with  real  pleasure,  as 
affording  him  an  opportunity  to  see  his  friends,  and 
to  gratify  filial  and  fraternal  affection;  to  promote 
his  health  by  an  abundance  of  wholesome  exercise; 
and  also  to  enjoy  the  privilege  of  attending  to 
some  branches  of  literary  culture  wliich  his  pre- 
scribed tasks  may  have  prevented  him  from  enjoy- 
ing. For  these  reasons  he  looks  forward  to  it  with 
calm  and  rational  pleasure.  He  takes  a  temporary 
leave  of  the  walls  of  his  Mrna  Mater  with  the 
decorum  and  dignity  of  a  gentlemen,  who  re- 
spects Aer,  and  at  the  same  time  respects  him- 
self. In  travelling  to  the  place  of  his  residence, 
he  is  not  seen  associating  with  the  noisy,  the  vulgar 
and  the  vile;  he  is  not  heard  uttering  the  language 
of  profaneness  and  brutality,  so  as  to  excite  the 
wonder  of  every  decent  beholder,  where  such  a 
young  cub  could  have  received  his  training. 

From  the  foregoing  statement  you  will  easily 


VACATIONS.  323 

perceive  how  your  father  would  wish  you  to  meet 
and  to  spend  your  vacations.  You  will,  of  course, 
anticipate  them  with  pleasure.  And  you  will,  I 
hope,  contemplate  them  very  much  as  every  wise 
man  regards  relaxation  from  the  severer  duties  of 
hfe,  as  means  of  refreshment  and  strength,  and  of 
preparation  for  returning  to  those  duties  with  re- 
newed alacrity  and  pleasure.  The  idea  of  making 
a  vacation  a  season  of  mere  vacuity,  or  of  lawless 
riot,  is  too  ignoble,  I  trust,  to  be  entertained  for  a 
moment  by  you.  You  will,  I  hope,  look  forward 
to  such  a  recess  as  a  season  of  much  value,  which 
ought  to  be  carefully  improved,  and  always  ren- 
dered subservient  to  some  valuable  acquisition. 

We  are  told  of  the  celebrated  Sir  William  Jones ^ 
that  eininent  philologist,  and  master  of  juridical 
and  oriental  learning,  that,  in  his  youth,  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  paying  an  annual,  and  sometimes  a 
more  frequent  visit,  of  several  weeks  to  London. 
As  that  city  was  his  native  place;  and  as  he  had,  of 
course,  from  that  circumstance,  and  from  the  re- 
spectability of  his  character,  a  large  circle  of  ac- 
quaintance there,  and  was  every  hour  surrounded 
with  scenes  of  luxury  and  entertainment,  it  might 
have  been  expected  that  his  visits  would  have  been 
all  devoted  to  company  and  amusement.  But 
this  amiable  and  highly  cultivated  youth  was  of 
"another  spirit."  His  impression  of  the  value  of 
knowledge  and  of  time  was  too  deep  to  allow  him 


324  VACATIONS. 

thus  to  employ  even  a  few  weeks  of  recess  from 
prescribed  study.  He  generally,  we  are  told,  made 
each  visit  to  the  city  subservient  to  the  acquisition 
of  a  nciv  language.  Why  may  not  you,  my  dear 
sons,  assign  to  every  vacation  which  occurs  in 
yoar  college  course  the  execution  of  some  task 
which  may  be  of  solid  use  to  you  as  long  as  you 
live?  For  example;  when  a  recess  of  five  or  six 
weeks  occurs  in  the  spring,  suppose  you  were  to 
resolve  to  devote  the  vacant  hours  which  occur 
during  that  time  to  a  careful  and  thorough  perusal 
of  Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  and  Paradise  Re- 
gained; and  for  that  purpose,  to  take  the  volumes 
with  you,  wherever  you  went,  and  to  study  them 
with  that  closeness  of  attention  which  becomes 
those  who  are  desirous  of  being  familiar  with 
works  of  which  it  is  disgraceful  to  any  English 
scholar  to  be  ignorant.  In  the  vacation  of  similar 
extent  in  the  autumn,  you  may  peruse  with  like 
attention  and  profit  tiie  eight  volumes  of  the  Spec- 
tator, in  the  pages  of  which  Addison,  Steele,  and 
others,  who  adorned  the  Augustan  age  of  English 
hterature,  made  so  distinguished  a  figure.  In  the 
vacation  of  the  following  spring,  let  your  leisure 
hours  be  employed  in  reading  with  attention,  some 
of  the  best  parts  of  Shakspeare^s  dramas.  I  say 
the  best  parts;  for  I  would  not  recommend  the  in- 
discriminatie  study  of  all  that  goes  under  the  name 
of  that  great  writer.  It  is  doublfiil,  as  you  probably 


VACATIONS.  325 

know,  whether  some  of  the  plays  bound  up  with 
his  works  are  really  his;  and  with  regard  to  some 
others,  confidently  considered  as  genuine,  they 
can  by  no  means  be  recommended  as  likely  to 
improve  either  the  literary  taste  or  the  moral  sen- 
timents of  those  who  peruse  them.  Let  your  spe- 
cial attention  be  directed  to  his  Macbeth;  his 
Richard  11;  his  Henry  IV,  Henry  V,  and  Hen- 
ry VI;  his  Richard  111;  his  Henry  Vlll;  his 
King  Lear;  his  Romeo  and  Juliet;  his  Hamlet; 
and  his  Othello.  With  these  I  would  advise  you 
to  stop;  and  these,  if  read  as  they  ought  to  be, 
will  be  more  than  sufficient  to  occupy  the  dispos- 
able hours  of  one  vacation.  Let  the  next  season 
of  a  similar  kind  be  devoted  to  the  perusal  of 
Papers  works;  the  next  to  Johnson^s  Lives  of  the 
Poets;  and  so,  in  succession,  to  the  other  works  of 
Johnson,  and  to  those  of  Thomson,  Goldsmith, 
Cowper,  Beattie,  &c.,  as  opportunity  may  present. 
If  to  these  you  could  find  time  to  add  Robertson's 
History  oi  Charles  V,  Hume^s  History  o{ England, 
HaJlam\s  Middle  >/iges,  and  the  same  writer's  Co7i- 
stitutional  History  of  England,  you  would  find 
yourselves  greatly  profited  by  the  series.  How 
much  better  to  have  a  system  of  this  sort,  than  to 
be  at  a  loss,  as  many  are,  during  the  hours  of 
vacation,  how  to  kill  the  time;  often  in  perfect 
ennui,  or,  perhaps,  running  over  the  columns  of  a 
newspaper  of  last  year,  or  of  an  old  almanack,  for 
28 


326  VACATIONS. 

the  sake  of  guarding  against  utter  vacuity!  If  this 
plan  or  any  thing  like  it  were  faithfully  preserved, 
every  student  in  college,  before  his  regular  course 
was  closed,  would  be  familiar  with  the  best  masters 
of  sentiment,  of  diction,  and  of  knowledge  that  the 
English  language  affords. 

But  perhaps  some  of  your  vacations  may  be 
spent  entirely  in  travelling.  Where  this  can  be 
done,  it  may  be  made  not  only  one  of  the  most  inter- 
esting, hut  also  one  of  the  most  pro^table  modes 
of  spending  a  few  weeks  of  recess  from  regular 
study.  Even  then,  you  may  take  some  classical 
English  volumes  with  you,  and  turn  the  perusal  of 
them  to  excellent  account  in  the  leisure  hours 
which  occur  in  all  journeying.  But  aside  from  the 
opportunities  of  reading  which  seldom  fail  to  occur 
in  steamboats,  and  other  vehicles  of  public  convey- 
ance, you  ought  to  remember  that,  even  when  you 
are  shut  out  from  these  avenues  to  knowledge, 
there  are  others  open  to  you,  even  by  the  very  cir- 
cumstances which  preclude  reading.  This  is  com- 
monly prevented  by  the  crowd  of  company  in 
which  we  are  placed.  But  is  there  nothing  to  be 
gained  by  a  vigilant  and  wise  use  of  this  very  com- 
pany as  a  source  of  information? 

I  know,  indeed,  that  reckless  young  men,  intent 
only  on  animal  gratification,  are  apt  to  pass  from 
place  to  place,  when  they  are  travelling,  and  from 
one  crowded  public  vehicle  to  another,  without  an 


VACATIONS.  327 

effort,  or  even  a  thought  of  adding  to  their  stock  of 
knowledge.  Whereas,  a  young  man  desirous  of 
learning  something  from  every  place  which  he 
visits,  of  gleaning  instruction  from  every  company 
into  which  he  is  thrown,  will  be  ever  on  the  watch 
to  make  the  most  of  every  scene  through  which  he 
passes.  He  will  try  to  niform  himself,  even  in  his 
most  cursory  journeyings,  of  the  history,  character, 
and  peculiarities  of  the  canals,  railroads  and  turn- 
pikes over  which  he  is  borne.  He  will  mark  and 
record  the  agricultural,  the  commercial  and  the 
manufacturing  conditions  of  every  district  which 
he  has  an  opportunity  of  seeing.  He  will  note 
well  all  the  internal  improvements,  the  literary, 
moral,  and  religious  state  of  every  neighbourhood; 
the  numbers,  relative  strength,  prospects,  and 
wants  of  the  different  ecclesiastical  denominations, 
and  particularly  any  institutions  or  practices  which 
may  be  worthy  of  imitation.  Such  a  wise  youth, 
in  travelling,  will  always,  of  course,  keep  a  diary; 
and,  if  his  observation  and  his  notes  be  such  as 
they  ought  to  be,  he  will  return  from  every  journey 
with  an  amount  of  new  information,  richer  and 
more  vividly  impressed  on  the  mind  than  he  could 
possibly  gain  from  books. 

Not  only  so;  but  in  every  such  journey  an  atten- 
tive traveller,  who  is  on  the  watch  for  incidents 
and  sources  of  improvement,  will,  of  course,  fall  in 
with  companions  in  travel,  from  whom  he  may 


328  VACATIONS. 

learn  much  which  books  would  never  teach  him. 
He  will,  probably,  seldom  enter  a  crowded  public 
vehicle  without  meeting  with  one  and  another  who 
have  visited  remote  parts  of  the  world,  and  from 
whom  he  might  derive  information  imparted  with 
all  the  impressiveness  which  the  living  speaker, 
and  the  animated  countenance  can  alone  confer. 
In  such  circumstances,  in  almost  every  journey,  a 
young  traveller,  if  awake  to  the  opportunities  of 
instruction,  may  collect  an  amount  of  information 
concerning  foreign  countries — concerning  Rome  or 
«^/Aen*,  concerning  Palestine  and  Jerusalem,  con- 
cerning  Egypt  and  Cairo  and  the  Pyramids,  &c., 
for  which  he  would  look  in  vain  in  any  printed 
volume.  Why  is  it  that  so  few  young  men,  who 
have  life  before  them;  who  might  be  benefited  as 
well  as  adorned  by  such  information;  and  who 
might  gather  up  by  handfuls  instructive  facts  con- 
cerning every  part  of  the  world,  are  so  little  awake 
to  the  value  of  the  privilege,  and  so  little  disposed 
to  avail  themselves  of  the  advantages  which  it 
offers?  It  is  evident  that  in  this  way  the  travels  of 
others  may  be  made  substantially  their  own. 

Thus  you  see,  my  dear  sons,  that  wherever  you 
may  spend  your  vacations — whether  at  home,  or 
in  journeying;  whether  among  friends  or  strangers, 
it  will  be  your  own  fault  if  you  do  not  make  them 
truly  and  richly  profitable.  Surely  to  have  an 
opportunity  of  reading  valuable  works  which  could 


VACATIONS.  329 

not  be  read  during  term-time;  or  to  visit  different 
parts  of  the  country;  or  to  see  more  of  the  world; 
or  to  converse  with  different  classes  of  men — are 
advantages  which  will  be  lightly  esteemed  by  none, 
who  have  minds  capable  of  making  the  estimate. 
When,  therefore,  1  see  a  student  reckless  of  all 
these  advantages,  the  moment  a  vacation  begins, 
trying  to  escape  from  all  reading,  as  having  had 
too  much  of  it  in  term-time;  flying  from  the  com- 
pany of  the  grave  and  the  wise,  from  whom  he 
might  learn  much,  and  frequenting  the  haunts  of 
the  dissipated  and  disorderly;  everywhere  smoking, 
drinking  and  racketing  with  the  children  of  folly; — 
when  I  see  this,  I  instinctively  regard  such  a  young 
man  as  "void  of  understanding;"  lost  to  himself 
and  his  friends;  and  as  much  more  likely  to  prove 
a  disgrace  than  an  honour  to  the  place  of  his  edu- 
cation. 


28* 


330 


LETTER    XXII. 

MISCELLANEOUS  THOUGHTS— CONCLUSION. 

Let  us  hear  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter;  fear  God,  and 
keep  his  commandments;  for  this  is  the  whole  duty  of  man. — 
EccLEs.  xii.  ]  3. 

My  Dear  Sons, 

I  have  now  touched  as  briefly,  and  yet  as  point- 
edly as  I  know  how,  on  the  leading  topics  which 
appear  to  me  to  be  peculiarly  interesting  to  you  as 
students  in  college.  I  would  fain  hope  that  I  have 
gained  your  assent  to  every  successive  remark  as 
I  went  along.  But  of  one  thing  I  am  confident, 
that  you  will  give  me  credit  for  having  uttered  my 
sincere  and  unbiassed  convictions  in  all  that  I  have 
said.  You  cannot  suspect  me  of  a  sinister  design 
in  any  one  of  the  counsels  which  occupy  the  fore- 
going pages.  No,  my  sons,  I  have  no  desire  to 
damp  the  sanguine  joy,  or  cloud  the  smiling  sun  of 
your  youth.  I  would  not  take  from  you  a  single 
rational  pleasure.  On  the  contrary,  I  delight  to  see 
you  happy;  and  desire,  by  all  the  means  in  my 


coNCLtrsiON.  331 

power,  to  promote  your  true  enjoyment  and  honour. 
But  you  must  allow  me  now,  in  my  advanced  life, 
when  I  have  seen  so  much  of  the  illusions  of  the 
world,  and  so  many  examples  of  the  destruction  of 
those  who  yielded  to  them,  to  counsel  you,  not  in 
the  style  of  youthful  flattery,  but  in  the  language 
of  "  truth  and  soberness,"  I  have  not  attempted  to 
carry  a  point  with  you  by  overpainting,  or  by  any 
other  artifice.  If  you  have  a  real  disinterested 
friend  on  earth,  who  unfeignedly  wishes  to  promote 
your  best  interests  in  both  worlds,  it  is  he  who  has 
penned  the  foregoing  letters.  And  in  publishing 
them  for  the  benefit  of  others,  I  have  endeavoured 
to  put  myself,  in  thought,  in  the  place  of  the  parents 
and  guardians  of  all  your  fellow  students,  and  to 
speak  to  them  all  as  my  own  beloved  children.  I 
have  not  given  a  counsel  or  an  injunction  but  what 
I  conscientiously  believe,  if  followed,  will  be  for 
your  benefit,  as  a  candidate  for  success  and  happi- 
ness in  this  world,  as  well  as  an  immortal  being. 
Nay,  I  have  not  given  a  counsel  but  what  I  am 
verily  persuaded  your  own  judgment  will  sanction, 
twenty  years  hence,  if  you  should  live  so  long,  and 
which,  if  you  neglect  it,  will  be  matter  of  bitter 
self-reproach  to  you  to  the  end  of  life. 

I  have  been  young,  my  dear  sons,  and  now  am 
old.  I  have  been,  as  you  know,  a  member  of  a 
college,  as  you  now  are;  jind,  of  course,  I  know 
something  of  the  habits,  the  follies,  the  prejudices. 


332  CONCLUSION. 

the  snares  and  dangers  with  which  you  are  sur- 
rounded. Now,  when  I  have  laid  open  my  whole 
heart  to  you  concerning  these  matters,  and  have 
told  you,  with  all  the  conscientiousness  of  truth, 
and  with  all  the  tenderness  of  parental  affection, 
how  these  things  appear  to  me  in  the  decline  of 
life,  and  in  view  of  my  final  account,  will  you  not 
listen  to  me? 

Perhaps,  in  the  fulness  of  your  filial  feelings,  you 
may  be  ready,  after  reading  what  has  been  written, 
to  say — "All  these  counsels  are  right:  all  these 
things  will  we  do."  But,  rely  upon  it,  to  carry  this 
resolution  into  effect  will  not  be  so  easy  as  you 
imagine.  The  rashness  of  inexperience;  the  im- 
petuosity of  youthful  feeling;  the  sudden  burst  of 
passion;  the  folly  and  violence  of  companions  in 
study, — all— all  endanger, every  day,  the  overthrow 
of  your  discretion;  and  may,  in  an  unexpected 
hour,  as  it  were  spring  a  mine  under  your  feet,  and 
disconcert,  before  you  are  aware,  all  those  plans  of 
order  which  in  your  calmer  moments  you  had 
adopted,  and  determined  to  follow.  Under  these 
impressions,  allow  me  to  close  this  letter,  and  this 
whole  manual,  with  a  few  counsels,  which  a  heart 
most  anxious  for  your  welfare,  as  long  as  it  shall 
continue  to  beat,  will  not  cease  to  pray,  may  be 
deeply  impressed  upon  your  minds  :  and 

1.  Be  not  confident  of  your  own  power  to  do 
all  that  your  judgment  tells  you  is  right;  all  that 


CONCLUSION.  333 

you  have  resolved  to  do,  in  conformity  with  the 
foregoing  letters.  Your  feelings  are  sometimes 
strong,  and,  in  an  evil  hour,  may  overpower  your 
judgment.  Your  inclinations,  never  to  be  implicitly 
trusted,  may  run  counter  to  your  duty  and  get  the 
victory:  and  some  plausible  fellow  student,  less 
worthy  of  respect  than  you  have  hitherto  thought 
him,  may  set  a  trap  and  ensnare  you,  before  you 
are  aware,  and  may  involve  you  in  a  difficulty 
from  which  retreat  is  not  easy.  On  all  these  ac- 
counts, and  others  too  numerous  to  be  specified  in 
detail,  be  not  confident  that  it  will  be  an  easy  thing 
to  adhere  to  your  resolutions,  and  to  perform  all 
the  duties  which  your  judgment  tells  you  ought  to 
be  performed,  by  wise  and  orderly  students. 

2.  If  you  feel  your  own  weakness,  and  the 
power  of  temptation  in  any  measure  as  you  ought, 
you  will  be  disposed  to  look  for  aid  from  above, 
and  to  pray  without  ceasing  for  the  guidance  and 
strength  which  you  need.  Whenever  any  exigency 
arises  which  requires  decision,  especially  if  it  in- 
volves any  question  of  difficulty,  be  not  in  haste  to 
act.  Pause,  reflect,  and  calculate  both  probabl'e 
and  possible  consequences.  Ask  direction  from 
your  father's  and  mother's  God.  And  if  the  path 
of  duty  be  still  doubtful,  take  that  course  which 
will  be  obviously  safe,  rather  than  that  which  is 
adapted  to  gratify  a  spirit  of  vanity  and  youthful 
display.     It  is  the  counsel  of  prudence,  as  well  as 


334  CONCLUSION. 

of  holy  scripture,  "  acknowledge  God  in  all  your 
ways,  and  He  will  direct  your  steps." 

I  should  feel,  my  dear  sons,  as  if  I  had  gained 
much,  if  I  could  find  you  deeply  impressed  with  a 
sense  of  your  danger  of  being  led  astray,  and  of 
your  constant  need  of  guidance  and  aid  from  above. 
Nothing  less,  you  may  rest  assured,  will  suffice  for 
your  protection.  We  may  speculate,  and  philoso- 
phize and  prescribe  as  much  as  we  please  about 
other  remedies  for  the  corrupt  tendencies  and  temp- 
tations of  the  young;  but  they  will  all  be  vain. 
"The  strong  man  armed"  can  never  be  overcome 
and  cast  out,  but  by  One  stronger  than  he.  We 
may  tell  young  men,  every  day  that  we  live,  of  the 
wisdom  and  happiness  of  virtue.  We  may  demon- 
strate to  them  with  all  the  force  of  reasoning,  and 
with  all  the  power  of  eloquence,  that  the  path  of 
temperance,  of  diligence  in  study,  and  of  undeviat- 
ing  regularity  in  every  respect,  is  the  wisest  course. 
We  may  assure  them  that  it  is  as  much  their  hap- 
piness and  their  honour  as  it  is  their  duty,  to  be  all 
that  their  instructors  can  require  or  wish.  We  may 
tell  them  all  this;  and  they  may  fully  believe  us. 
Nay,  they  know  that  it  is  so.  Their  judgments  and 
their  consciences  are  decisively  in  favour  of  it  all. 
But,  alas!  their  hearts  are  not  gained.  In  spite  of 
all  that  we  can  say,  when  passion  pleads;  when 
the  syren  voice  of  pleasure  calls,  away  they  will 
hasten  ''as  an  ox  goeth  to  the  slaughter."     The 


CONCLUSION.  335 

admonitions  of  conscience  are  either  not  heard  at 
all,  or,  if  heard,  speedily  silenced  by  the  overflow- 
ing tide  of  youthful  feeling.  Alas!  how  many 
young  men  whose  sober  convictions,  when  con- 
sulted, are  strongly  on  the  side  of  what  is  right, 
have,  notwithstanding,  from  the  mere  influence  of 
appetite  and  passion,  or  the  impulse  of  still  more 
inflamed  and  infatuated  companions,  in  an  evil 
hour,  plunged  irretrievably  into  courses  which  have 
destroyed  them,  soul  and  body,  for  ever!  0  how 
constantly  and  importunately  ought  those  who  are 
exposed  to  such  temptations  and  perils,  to  implore 
that  guardianship  which  can  alone  guide  them 
aright! 

3.  Recollect  that  you  are  every  day  forming 
habits  and  establishing  a  character,  which  will  pro- 
bably follow  you  through  life.  The  great  difficulty 
of  most  students  is  that  they  "do  not  consider." 
They  cannot  be  persuaded  to  lay  to  heart  the  im- 
portance of  every  day  they  live,  and  of  every 
opportunity  they  enjoy.  They  have  but  one  life 
to  live.  The  precious  time  which  is  now  pass- 
ing, and  the  privileges  with  which  they  are  now 
favoured,  can  never  return.  0,  if  young  men  could 
be  induced  to  "consider  their  ways;"  to  "look  be- 
fore they  leap;"  to  reflect  seriously  before  they  act; 
and  to  prize  as  they  ought  the  price  now  put  into 
their  hands  for  getting  wisdom;— how  many  of 
their  false  steps  would  be  prevented!     How  many 


336  CONCLUSION. 

of  those  deplorable  calamities  which  cloud  their 
course,  and  pain  the  hearts  of  parents,  would  be 
happily  averted! 

4.  Think  how  easy  it  is,  in  the  outset,  to  avoid 
being  implicated  in  the  disorders  of  a  college,  com- 
pared with  what  it  is  in  the  progress  of  the  mischief. 
In  the  commencement  of  such  disorder,  one  simple 
rule,  like  a  perfect  panacea,  will  deliver  you  from 
all  embarrassment.  That  rule  is,  without  any 
reference  to  its  character  or  its  aim,  to  have  no  con- 
nection with  it;  to  decline  attending  its  meetings; 
signing  its  papers,  or  concurring  in  its  applications. 
By  abstaining,  kindly  and  respectfully,  but  firmly^ 
from  all  participation  in  the  proposed  movement, 
no  harm  can  be  done  in  any  case:  whereas  in 
allowing  yourselves  to  be  implicated  in  a  move- 
ment which  in  the  outset  may  appear  perfectly  in- 
nocent, you  may  be  unexpectedly  drawn  into  a 
vortex  of  disgrace  and  ruin.  What  was  only  in- 
tended to  be  a  piece  of  harmless  merriment,  or  a 
respectful  request,  has,  perhaps,  insensibly  grown 
into  a  combination  of  infatuated  rebels.  "  Behold 
how  great  a  matter  a  little  fire  kindleth!" 

Shall  we  never  have  done  with  scenes  of  insub- 
ordination and  disorder  in  our  colleges?  Are  stu- 
dents in  our  highest  literary  institutions  more 
unreasonable  and  perverse  than  other  young  men? 
Are  they  less  accessible  to  ingenuous  sentiments; 
less  open  to  conviction  from  the  plainest  reasoning; 


CONCLUSION.  337 

less  desirous  of  happiness;  less  capable  of  elevated 
and  manly  feelings  than  otiiers  of  their  age  differ- 
ently situated?  It  cannot  be.  Surely  the  air  of  a 
college  cannot,  as  a  matter  of  course,  inebriate  all 
who  breathe  it.  Surely  the  walls  of  a  college  can- 
not blind  and  stultify  all  who  inhabit  them.  Surely 
college  students,  the  moment  they  become  such, 
cannot  be  at  once  transformed  into  such  miserable 
cowards,  or  such  incorrigible  fools,  as,  of  course, 
like  a  flock  of  silly  sheep,  to  follow  in  the  train  of 
every  ruffian  blockhead  who  chooses  to  leap  over 
a  precipice,  and  destroy  himself.  Why,  then,  does 
it  so  often  happen,  that  those  young  men  who, 
under  the  parental  roof,  were  amiable,  ingenuous, 
and  docile;  after  being  advanced  to  the  higher 
privileges,  and  more  enlarged  instruction  of  a  col- 
lege, are  so  apt  to  become  blinded  by  passion,  the 
sport  of  childish  feeling,  and  more  disposed  than  be- 
fore to  "call  evil  good,  and  good  evil;  to  put  dark- 
ness for  light,  and  light  for  darkness;  to  put  bitter 
for  sweet,  and  sweet  for  bitter.  Causa  latetj  vis 
est  7iotissinia.  And  yet,  I  know  not  that  the 
cause  is  really  hidden.  The  gregarious  principle, 
which,  when  sanctified,  is  productive  of  so  much 
good,  may  become,  when  perverted,  a  source  of 
incalculable  evil.  Hence  it  so  often  happens  that 
associated  bodies,  in  the  fervour  of  their  feelings, 
and  in  the  madness  of  their  spasmodic  excitements, 
29 


338  CONCLUSION. 

are  found  to  do  things  of  which  any  individual  of 
their  whole  number  would  be  utterly  ashamed. 

Can  you,  for  a  moment,  doubt,  my  beloved  sons, 
that  it  is  as  much  your  interest  as  it  is  your  diityj 
to  be  perfectly  exemplary  in  all  your  relations  to 
the  college  of  which  you  are  members?  Can  you 
doubt  that  it  will  be  for  your  own  happiness  and 
honour  to  obey  every  law  of  the  institution;  to  per- 
form all  your  prescribed  tasks  with  diligence  and 
faithfulness;  and  to  treat  every  one  both  within 
and  without  its  walls  with  the  urbanity  of  perfect 
gentlemen?  I  am  sure  you  cannot  and  do  not 
doubt  concerning  one  jot  or  tittle  of  all  this.  Why, 
then,  0  why  are  these  principles  really  and  faith- 
fully acted  upon  by  only  one  in  ten  or  twenty  of 
the  students  of  any  college  in  our  land?  I  could 
sit  down  and  weep  when  I  learn,  from  day  to  day, 
from  so  many  channels  of  public  intelligence,  and 
from  colleges  in  almost  every  quarter  of  our  coun- 
try, of  masses  of  students  who  appear  as  if  their 
constant  and  supreme  study  was  how  they  might 
most  effectually  secure  their  own  disgrace  and 
misery,  and  render  those  around  them  also  as  mise- 
rable as  possible. 

Cannot  young  gentlemen,  in  circumstances  so 
conspicuous  and  responsible,  be  persuaded  to  ap- 
preciate their  own  interest?  Can  they  not  be 
prevailed  upon,  if  they  will  not  respect  others,  at 
least  to  RESPECT  themselv^es;  to  respect  public 


CONCLUSION.  339 

OPINION,  to  which  they  look  for  high  honours,  and 
on  whicli  they  rely  for  that  brilliant  success  which, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  they  anticipate  for  them- 
selves. Above  all,  can  they  not  be  persuaded  to 
respect  that  high  and  holy  one,  whose  favour  is 
life,  and  whose  loving  kindness  is  better  than  life? 
If  they  consider  it  as  an  honourable  achievement 
to  deceive  and  overreach  the  faculty^  can  they 
regard  in  a  similar  light  that  conduct  which  de- 
grades themselves,  and  is  a  prelude  to  inevitable 
shame?  Alas!  for  the  infatuation  of  young  men 
who  can  glory  in  their  own  dishonour,  and  boast 
of  intellectual  and  moral  suicide! 

When  I  compare  what  young  men  might  gain 
in  college,  with  what  they  usually  do  gain,  the  con- 
trast is  most  humiliating.  Instead  of  striving  to 
enrich  their  minds  with  every  kind  of  literary  and 
scientific  acquirement  adapted  to  prepare  them  for 
an  elevated  and  honourable  course  in  life;  instead 
of  labouring  to  gather  knowledge  by  handfuls,  and 
to  make  every  session  a  source  of  intellectual 
wealth;  how  many  act  as  if  their  object  were  to 
g&.\n  a.  diploma  to  which  they  had  no  title;  to  cheat 
themselves  and  their  parents  by  clutching  a  mere 
barren  parchment! 

Here,  my  dear  sons,  I  must  take  my  leave  of  you, 
and  close  these  counsels.  And  yet  I  scarcely  know 
how  to  lay  aside  my  pen.  Not  that  I  feel  as  if  I 
had  any  thing  new,  or  more  weighty  than  has  been 


340  CONCLUSION. 

already  expressed,  to  say;  but  because  I  scarcely 
know  how  to  tear  myself  away  from  the  chair  of 
affectionate,  paternal  counsel,  or  cease  to  exhort 
and  entreat,  when  I  feel  that  so  much  may  depend 
on  "a  word  in  season"  to  those  whose  habits  and 
character  are  forming.  But  to  the  God  of  your 
parents,  I  must  now  commit  you.  May  He  be  your 
Protector  and  your  Guide!  This  shall  be  the  un- 
ceasing prayer  of  your  affectionate  friend  and 
father, 

SAMUEL  MILLER. 

Princeton,  February  Is/,  1843. 


POSTSCRIPT  TO  LETTER  XI. 

(Accidentally  left  out  when  the  manuscript  was  sent  to  the  press.) 

In  enumerating  the  particular  studies  which 
ought  to  engage  the  special  regard  of  every  young 
man  who  wishes  to  make  the  most  of  himself,  I 
would  mention,  with  peculiar  emphasis,  the  art  of 
composition  in  his  own  language.  I  know  of 
no  accomplishment  more  adapted  to  increase  the 
power  of  an  educated  man.  Many  an  individual 
who  has  been  cut  off  by  disease  from  the  active 
duties  of  a  public  profession,  has  been  enabled  to 
serve  his  country  and  the  Church  of  God  more  ex- 
tensively and  effectually  by  his  pen,  than  he  could 
have  otherwise  done  in  the  enjoyment  of  his  best 
vigour;  and  many  others,  who  were  active  and 
illustrious  in  their  professional  character,  have  ren- 
dered themselves  still  more  illustrious  and  more 
permanently  useful,  by  their  force  and  eloquence 
as  writers.  Would  any  wise  man  grudge  the  in- 
tellectual labour  which  should  enable  him  to  write 
the  English  language  as  it  has  been  written  by  the 
author  oi  Junius;  by  Edmund  Burke;  by  Robert 
Hall;  by  Thomas  Chalmers;  by  Thomas  Bahing- 


342  POSTSCRIPT  TO  LETTER  XI. 

ton  Macauhiy,  of  Great  Britain;  to  say  nothing  of 
a  few  eminent  men  in  our  own  country?  True,  in 
the  writings  of  these  men  there  is  great  diversity, 
and  each  has  beauties  and  faults  pecuUar  to  him- 
self: but  in  all  there  is  a  wonderful  power  well 
worthy  of  emulation. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  labour  of  learning  to  write 
in  the  masterly  manner  attained  by  the  eminent 
men  just  mentioned,  and  by  others  of  the  last  and 
present  century,  whose  names  deserve  a  place  in 
the  same  honourable  list.  And  truly,  I  know  of 
no  art  in  which  unwearied,  persevering  labour  is 
more  indispensable  to  the  attainment  of  high  ex- 
cellence, than  that  of  which  I  am  speaking.  It 
has  long  been  an  accredited  proverb, — Poetci  nas- 
citur  71071  Jit.  But  there  is  hardly  an  accomplish- 
ment to  which  the  principle  of  this  proverb  is  less 
applicable  than  the  art  of  composition.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  some  acquire  it  much  more  easily  and 
readily  than  others;  but  in  all  it  requires  a  degree 
of  study  and  of  practice  to  which  very  few  are 
willing  to  submit.  It  requires  such  a  careful  pe- 
rusal of  the  best  writers;  such  a  laborious  compari- 
son of  different  styles;  such  a  persevering  study  of 
the  principles  of  language;  and  such  an  indefatiga- 
ble repetition  of  etforts,  as  no  toil  can  discourage. 
No  one  ever  wrote  ivell,  who  did  not  write  much. 
I  care  not  how  great  his  talents;  if  he  imagines 
that  this  kitid  of  excellence  will  come,  so  to  speak, 


POSTSCRIPT  TO  LETTER  XI.  343 

"in  the  natural  way,"  and  disdains  the  employ- 
ment of  unwearied  labour  to  attain  it,  lie  will  pretty 
certainly  fail  of  success. 

The  instruction  of  experience  on  this  subject  is 
ample,  and  very  decisive.  To  illustrate  my  posi- 
tion, I  might  adduce  many  signal  examples.  The 
late  Charles  James  Fox,  of  Great  Britain,  as  a  par- 
liamentary debater,  was,  perhaps,  never  exceeded. 
It  is  probable  that  no  man  ever  rose  in  the  English 
House  of  Commons  who  displayed  so  much  elo- 
quence of  the  true  Demosthenian  stamp  as  that 
celebrated  statesman.  As  a  pubhc  speaker,  he  was 
simple,  clear,  inexhaustibly  rich,  profound,  and 
trancendently  forcible.  But  when  he  took  pen  in 
hand,  he  fell  far  below  himself.  All  his  published 
works  (except  his  speeches,  which  were  taken 
from  his  lips  by  stenographers)  manifest  a  second 
or  third  rate  writer.  Of  the  same  thing  there  was 
quite  as  signal,  though  not  so  celebrated  an  exam- 
ple in  one  of  the  Southern  States,  nearly  seventy 
years  ago.  A  gentleman  who  had  consummate 
powers  as  a  public  speaker,  who  greatly  exceeded 
all  his  fellow  members  of  the  legislative  body  to 
which  he  belonged  in  bold,  fervid  and  overpower- 
ing eloquence,  was  at  the  same  time,  with  his 
pen,  powerless.  He  could  scarcely  write  a  com- 
mon letter  without  manifesting  an  awkwardness,  a 
feebleness,  and  a  want  of  acquaintance  with  the 
most  obvious  rules  of  grammar,  truly  discreditable. 


344  POSTSCRIPT  TO  LETTER  XI. 

Let  me  entreat  you,  then,  from  the  very  com- 
mencement of  your  course  in  college,  to  be  Ube- 
ral  and  constant  in  the  use  of  the  pen.  Let  no  day 
pass  without  writing  something.  Summon  to  your 
aid  in  this  matter  all  sorts  of  composition.  Write 
letters,  speeches,  abstracts  of  striking,  eloquent 
volumes,  which  admit  of  the  process;  peruse,  and 
re-peruse  the  best  models;  and  spare  no  pains  to 
acquire  the  happy  art  of  embodying  and  presenting 
your  thoughts  in  that  clear,  simple,  direct,  lively 
and  powerful  manner  which  will  indicate  that 
you  are  familiar  with  the  precepts  of  the  elegant 
Horace,  and  with  the  example  of  the  great  Gre- 
cian orator. 


VALUABLE    BOOKS, 

PUBLISHED  AND  FOR  SALE  BY 

GRIGG   &    ELLIOT, 

NO.  9  N.  FOURTH  ST.,  PHILADELPHIA. 
^9nd  for  Sale  by  Booksellers  generally  in  the  U.  Slates. 


THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  FAMILY  RELIGION:  with  a 
selection  of  Hymns  and  Prayers,  adapted  to  Family  Worship, 
and  Tables  for"  the  regular  Pleading  of  the  Scriptures.  By  the 
Re^^  S.  G.  Winchester,  A.  M. 

The  subject  is  one  of  incalculable  practical  importance,  and  is 
treated  in  a  masterly  manner.  It  contains  an  able,  elaborate  and 
highly  instructive  Essay  on  the  obligation,  nature  and  importance 
of  Family  Religion:  and  we  hope,  ere  long,  it  will  be  found  in  the 
Library  of  every  family. 

COWPER  AND  THOMSONS  PROSE  AND  POETICAL 
WORKS,  complete  in  1  vol.  8vo  ,  including  two  hundred  and 
fifty  Letters,  and  sundry  Poems  of  Cowper,  never  before  published 
in  this  country;  and  of  Thomson  a  new  and  interesting  Memoir, 
and  upwards  of  twenty  new  poems,  for  ihe  first  lime  printed  from 
his  own  Manuscripvs,  taken  from  a  late  edition  of  the  Aldine 
Poets,  now  publishing  in  London. 

The  distinguished  Professor  Silliman,  speaking  of  this  edition, 
observes,  "  I  am  as  much  gratified  by  the  elegance  and  fine  taste 
of  your  edition,  as  by  the  noble  tribute  of  genius  and  moral  excel- 
lence which  these  delightful  authors  have  left  fur  all  future  gene- 
rations; and  Cowper  especially,  is  not  less  con.spicuous  as  a  true 
Christian  moralist  and  teacher  than  as  a  poet  of  great  power  and 
exquisite  taste." 

THE  POETICAL  WORKS  OF  ROGERS,  CAMPBELL, 
MONTGOMERY,  LAMB,  AND  KIRK  WHITE,  complete  in 
1  vol.  8vo. 

MTLTON,  YOUNG,  GRAY,  BEATTIE,  AND  COLLINS' 
POETICAL  WORKS,  complete  in  1  vol.  8vo. 

THE  POETICAL  WORKS  OF  MRS.  HEMANS,  com- 
plete in  1  vol.  8vo. 

1j-  This  is  a  new  and  complete  edition,  with  a  splendid  en- 
graved likeness  of  Mrs.  Hemans,  on  steel. 

"  As  no  work  in  the  English  language  can  be  commended  with 
more  confidence,  it  will  argue  bad  taste  in  a  female  in  this  coun- 
try to  be  without  a  complete  edition  of  the  writings  of  one  who 
■was  an  honour  to  her  se.xand  to  humanity,  and  whose  productions, 
from  first  to  last,  contain  no  syllable  calculated  to  call  a  blush  to 
the  cheek  of  modesty  and  virtue.  There  is,  moreover,  in  Mrs. 
Hemans'  poetry  a  moral  puriiy,  and  a  religious  feeling,  which 
commend  it,  in  an  especial  manner,  to  the  discriminating  reader. 
No  parent  or  guardian  will  be  under  the  necessity  of  imposing 
restrictions  with  regard  to  the  free  perusal  of  every  production 
emanating  from  this  gifted  woman.  There  breathes  throughout 
the  whole  a  mo'^t  eminent  exemption  from  impropriety  of  thought 
or  diction;  and  there  is  at  times  a  pensiveness  of  tone,  a  winnin"- 
1 


2 

sadiiess  in  her  more  serious  compositions,  which  tells  of  a  soul 
which  has  been  lifted  from  the  contemplation  of  terrestrial  things 
to  divine  communings  with  beings  of  a  purer  world." 

HEBER,  POLLOK  and  CRABBE'S  POETICAL  WORKS 
complete  in  1  vol.  8vo. 

"  Among  the  beautiful,  valuable,  and  interesting  volumes  which 
the  enterprise  and  taste  of  our  publishers  have  presented  to  the 
reading  community,  we  have  seldom  met  with  one  which  we 
have  more  cordially  greeted  and  can  more  confidently  and  satis- 
factorily recommend,  than  that,  embracing  in  a  single,  substan- 
tial, well-bound,  and  handsomely  printed  octavo,  the  poetical 
works  of  Bishop  Heber,  Robert  Pollok,  and  the  Rev.  George 
Crabbe.  What  a  constellation  of  poetic  ardor,  glowing  piety,  and 
intellectual  brilliancy!  Such  writers  require  no  eulogy.  Their 
fame  is  established  and  universal.  The  sublimity,  pathos,  and 
piety  of  all  these  writers,  have  given  them  a  rank  at  once  with 
the  lovers  of  poetry  and  the  friends  of  religion,  unsurpassed  per- 
haps by  that  of  any  other  recent  authors  in  our  language.  A  more 
delightful  addition  could  scarcely  be  made  to  the  library  of  the 
gentleman  or  lady  of  taste  and  refinement.  The  prize  poems, 
hymns,  and  miscellaneous  writings  of  Bishop  Heber,  the  'Course 
of  Time'  by  Pollok,  and  the  rich,  various,  and  splendid  produc- 
tions of  the  Rev.  George  Crabbe,  are  among  the  standard  works, 
the  classics  of  our  language.  To  obtain  and  preserve  them  in  one 
volume,  cannot  but  be  a  desirable  object  to  their  admirers."  And 
it  is  to  be  hoped  it  will  be  found  in  the  library  of  every  family. 

A  writer  in  the  Boston  Traveller  holds  the  following  language 
with  reference  to  these  valuable  editions: — 

Mr.  Editor— I  wish,  without  any  idea  of  pufiing,  to  say  a  word 
or  two  upon  the  "  Library  of  English  Poets"  that  is  now  published 
at  Philadelphia,  by  Grigg  &  Elliot.  It  is  certainly,  taking  into 
consideration  the  elegant  manner  in  which  it  is  printed,  and  the 
reasonable  price  at  which  it  is  afforded  to  purchasers,  the  best  edi- 
tion of  the  modern  British  Poets  that  has  ever  been  published  in 
this  country.  Each  volume  is  an  octavo  of  about  500  pages,  dou- 
ble columns,  stereotyped,  and  accompanied  with  fine  engravings 
and  biographical  sketches,  and  most  of  them  are  reprinted  from 
Galignani's  French  edition.  As  to  its  value  we  need  only  men- 
lion  that  it  contains  the  entire  works  of  Montgomery,  Gray,  Beat- 
tie,  Collins,  Byron,  Cowper,  Thomson,  Burns,  Milton,  Young, 
Scott,  Moore,  Coleridge,  Rogers,  Campbell,  Lamb,  Hemans, 
Heber,  Kirk  White,  Crabbe,  the  Miscellaneous  Works  of  Gold- 
smith, and  other  martyrs  of  the  lyre.  The  publishers  are  doing 
a  great  service  by  their  publication,  and  their  volumes  are  almost 
in  as  great  demand  as  the  fashionable  novels  of  the  day,  and  they 
deserve  to  be  so,  for  they  are  certainly  printed  in  a  style  superior 
to  that  in  which  we  have  before  had  the  works  of  the  English 
Poets. 

BURDER'S  VILLAGE  SERMONS,  or  101  Plain  and  Short 
Discourses  on  the  principal  doctrines  of  the  Gospel;  intended  for 
the  use  of  Families,  Sunday  Schools,  or  companies  assembled  for 
religious  instruction  in  country  villages.  By  George  Burder. 
To  which  is  added  to  each  Sermon,  a  short  Prayer,  with  some 
general  prayers  for  families,  schools,  &c.,  at  the  end  of  the  work. 
Complete  in  1  vol.  8vo. 


These  sermons,  which  are -characterised  by  a  beautiful  simpli- 
city, the  entire  absence  of  controversy,  and  a  true  evangelical 
spirit,  have  gone  through  many  and  large  ediiions,  and  been 
translated  inio  several  of  the  continental  languages.  "  They  have 
also  been  the  honoured  means  not  only  of  converting  many  indi- 
viduals, but  also  of  introducing  the  Gospel  into  districts,  and  even 
into  parish  churches,  where  before  it  was  comparatively  un- 
known." 

"This  work  fully  deserves  the  immortality  it  has  attained." 

This  is  a  fine  library  edition  of  this  invaluable  work,  and  when 
we  say  that  it  should  be  found  in  the  possession  of  every  family, 
we  only  reiterate  the  sentiments  and  sincere  wishes  of  all  who 
take  a  deep  interest  in  the  eternal  welfare  of  mankind. 

THE  AMERICAN  CHESTERFIELD;  or  "Youth's  Guide 
to  the  Way  to  Wealth,  Honour  and  Distinction,"  &c.:  containing 
also  a  complete  Treatise  on  the  art  of  Carving. 

"  We  most  cordially  recommend  the  American  Chesterfield  to 
general  attention;  but  to  young  persons  particularly,  as  one  of  the 
best  works  of  the  kind  that  ha.s  ever  been  published  in  this  coun- 
try. It  cannot  be  too  highly  appreciated,  nor  its  perusal  be  unpro- 
ductive of  satisfaction  and  usefulness." 

BOOK  OF  POLITENESS.— The  Gentleman  and  Lady's 
Book  of  Politeness  and  Propriety  of  Deportment.  Dedicated  to 
the  Youth  of  both  se.xes.  By  Madame  Celnart.  Translated  from 
the  sixth  Paris  edition,  enlarged  and  improved.  Fifth  American 
edition. 

THE  DAUGHTER'S  OWN  BOOK;  or.  Practical  Hints  from 
a  Father  to  his  Daughter.     In  1  vol.  18mo. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  practical  and  truly  valuable  treatises 
on  the  culture  and  discipline  of  the  female  mind,  which  has  hith- 
erto been  published  in  this  country,  and  the  publishers  are  very 
confident,  from  the  great  demand  lor  this  invaluable  Utile  work, 
that  ere  long  it  will  be  found  in  the  library  of  everv  voung  lady. 

BENNET'S  (Rev.  John)  LETTERS  TO  A  YOUNG  LADY, 
on  a  variet)''  of  subjects  calculated  to  improve  the  heart,  to  form 
the  manners,  and  enlighten  the  understanding.  "  That  our  Daugh- 
ters may  be  as  polished  corners  of  the  Temple." 

The  publishers  sincerely  hope,  {for  the  happiness  of  ma.nldnd,) 
that  a  copy  of  this  valuable  little  work  will  be  found  the  compa- 
nion of  every  young  lady,  as  much  of  the  happiness  of  every 
familv  depends  on  the  proper  cultivation  of  the  female  mind. 

SENECA'S  MORALS— By  way  of  abstract,  to  which  is  add- 
ed,a  Discourse,  under  the  title  of  an  After-Thoughi,  by  Sir  Roger 
L'Estrange,  Knt.     A  new  fine  edition,  in  1  vol.  18mo. 

A  copv  of  this  valuable  little  work  should  be  found  in  every 
familv  librarv. 

THE  BEAUTIES  OF  HISTORY,  or  Examples  of  the  Op- 
posite EflTects  of  Virtue  and  Vice,  for  the  use  of  Schools  and 
Families,  with  (Questions  for  the  Examination  of  Students.  I  vol. 
l^mo.,  with  plates. 

This  work  is  introduced  into  our  High  School.  It  is  particu- 
larly adapted  for  a  Class  Book  in  all  our  male  and  female  semi- 
naries, &c. 

"We  have  received  from  the  publishers,  Messrs.  Grigg  & 


Elliot,  a  very  neat  duodecimo  volume,  entitled  '  The  Beauties  of 
Histnry;  or,  Examples  of  the  opposite  effects  of  Virtue  and  Vice, 
drawn  from  real  life.'  After  a  careful  examination  of  this  book, 
we  can  conscientiously  recommend  it  to  parents  and  teachers  as 
a  most  meritorious  performance.  There  are  here  collected, 
within  a  narrow  compass,  the  most  striking  examples  of  indivi- 
dual virtue  and  vice,  which  are  spread  forth  on  the  pages  of  his- 
tory, or  are  recorded  in  personal  biography.  The  noblest  precepts 
are  recommended  for  the  guidance  of  youth;  and  in  the  most  im- 
pressive manner  is  he  taught  to  conquer  the  degrading  impulses 
which  lower  the  standard  of  the  human  character.  We  have  not 
lately  met  with  a  volume  which,  in  design  and  execution,  seemed 
so  acceptable  as  this.  The  book,  moreover,  is  handsomely  got  up, 
and  illustrated  with  wood  engravings." 

A  DICTIONARY  OF  SELECT  AND  POPULAR  aUO- 
TATIONS,  which  are  in  daily  use:  taken  from  the  Latin, 
French,  Greek.  Spanish,  and  Italian  languages;  together  with  a 
copious  collection  of  Law  maxims  and  Law  terms;  translated  into 
English,  with  illustrations,  historical  and  idiomatic.  Sixth  Ame- 
rican edition,  corrected  with  additions.     I  vol.  12mo. 

In  preparing  this  sixth  edition  for  the  press,  care  has  been 
taken  to  give  the  work  a  thorough  revision,  to  correct  some  errors 
which  had  before  escaped  notice,  and  to  insert  many  additional 
duotations.  Law  maxims  and  Law  terms.  In  this  stale  it  is 
offered  to  the  public  in  the  stereotype  form.  This  little  work 
should  find  its  wav  into  every  family  library. 

GOLDSMITH'S  ANIMATED  NATURE,  in  4  vols.  8vo., 
beautifully  illustrated. 

"Goldsmith  can  never  be  made  obsolete,  ^'hile  delicate  genius, 
exquisite  feeling,  fine  invention,  the  most  harmonious  metre,  and 
the  happiest  diction  are  at  all  valued." 

This  is  a  work  that  should  be  in  the  Library  of  every  family, 
being  written  by  one  of  the  most  talented  authors  in  the  English 
languasie. 

JOSEPHUS'S  (FLAVIUS)  WORKS.  By  the  late  William 
Whiston,  A.  M.     From  the  last  London  edition,  complete. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  every  family  in  our  country  has  a  copy 
of  the  Holy  Bible — and  as  the  presumption  is,  the  greater  portion 
often  consult  its  pages,  we  take  the  liberty  of  saying  to  all  those 
that  do,  that  the  perusal  of  the  writings  of  Josephus  will  be  found 
very  interesting  and  instructing. 

All  those  who  wish  to  possess  a  beautiful  and  correct  copy  of 
this  invaluable  work,  would  do  well  to  purchase  this  edition.  It 
is  for  sale  at  all  the  principal  bookstores  in  the  United  States,  by 
country  merchants  generally  in  the  Southern  and  Western  States. 

♦**  Public,  private,  and  social  libraries,  and  all  who  purchase  to 
sell  again,  supplied  on  the  most  reasonable  terms  with  every  article 
in  the  Book  and  Stationary  line;  including  new  novels,  and  all  nev) 
works  in  every  department  of  literature  and  science.  All  orders  will 
be  thankfully  received  and  promptly  attended  to. 


